


Name Your Price

by maxride003



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Fake AH Crew, GTA V AU, Gen, Heist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 109,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxride003/pseuds/maxride003
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Geoff have held their portions of Achievement City for years just the two of them, until the Corpirate starts threatening their territory. They set out to expand their two-man crew, and find a way to take the Corpirate down once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two-Man Crew

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first AH story I've written, so let me know what you think! I already know where this story's headed, and hopefully will be able to update it on a fairly regular basis, so stay tuned.

Things had quickly gone to shit, and Geoff was trying to keep his cool.

"Dammit, has anyone seen Jack?" he bellowed into his earpiece.

It wasn’t working very well.

"I-I don't think he made it out," Ray said nervously. "I'll circle around and check one more time."

Geoff growled, wrenching at the wheel of his car. The tires skid on the dirt road, throwing up dust and rocks, then he was shooting off into the surrounding barren landscape. The cop cars behind him struggled to mimic his movements, the sirens dropping for a brief moment.

"Make it quick, then get out of there! And don't get fucking got!" Geoff said, weaving desperately around shrubs and sickly little trees. "Ryan, what's going on up there?"

"Got Gavin, but we have to go back for Michael. He can't get to Jack's chopper," Ryan answered, his voice far calmer than everyone else's, and the rhythmic sound of helicopter blades could be heard in the background.

"Well hurry the fuck up, Ryan! These guys are up my ass, and they're fucking pissed," Michael demanded, his words punctuated by the sharp reports of gunfire.

"Almost there. Gavin, give us some cover fire," Ryan said, and Geoff could head the large gun in the chopper starting up.

"Geoff, he's not out here," Ray said.

Geoff's grip on the wheel tightened. The sirens blared just behind him, and a headache was starting to form behind his eyes. "Get out of there, Ray. We can come back for Jack after we get rid of these assholes!"

Ray didn't answer, and Geoff hoped that meant he was doing as he was told. Geoff would wring the freelancer's neck if he got caught because he wasn't listening.

"I'm in! Go, go, go!" Michael screamed, his words almost lost under the gunfire. "Ah,  _fuck!_ "

"Shit, Michael?" Gavin said, his own voice high and panicky. "Go faster, Ryan! Michael got hit!"

Geoff cursed, mashing on the pedals and turning the wheel roughly. His car spun around a full one-eighty, back toward the cops, and he barreled between the pursuing cars. One of his side-view mirrors broke off, and the side of the car grated horribly against the nearest cop car, and then he was shooting back the way he'd come.

"Meet back at base! And you all better fucking be there!" Geoff yelled, racing toward a railway. A train was coming up fast. This would either be the stupidest thing he'd ever done or the coolest.

Gavin screeched, and Geoff winced as his earpiece erupted into feedback. "Ryan! There are choppers, Ryan!"

"I see them," Ryan answered with that infuriatingly calm voice of his. "They're not a problem."

"They're fucking shooting at us, of course they're a fucking problem!" Michael yelled, and his voice was tight and pained.

Geoff tried to block out their shouting, attention fixed on the train as he tried to coax more speed out of his already over-worked car. Letting out a defiant yell of his own, Geoff shot across the tracks, seconds before the train barreled through with its horn blaring.

The sirens quickly died away as Geoff continued and he eased up on the gas a little, leaning back in his seat with a relieved laugh. "I've lost them and I'm heading home. How are you guys doing?"

"I'm good. Almost back already," Ray said.

"Good, good. Ryan, you lose those choppers yet?" Geoff asked. No one answered and he frowned. "Ryan? What's going on up there?"

Still no answer, and now that Geoff was really paying attention, there was no noise from that half of his crew. No voices, no gunfire, no whirring chopper blades, no quiet curses coming from Michael or panicked babbling from Gavin. It was eerily silent.

"Michael? Gavin?" Ray said nervously. "Come on guys, someone answer!"

"Fuck!" Geoff screamed, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. Something had gone wrong if they weren't answering, and now two thirds of the crew were unaccounted for. "Fuck."

  **  
**

**Six Months Earlier**

 

The room Geoff was in was small and sparsely furnished. A door led out to the hallway, and one wall was dominated by a giant mirror. A camera sat up in one corner, a red light glowing near its lens, which was trained on the table and pair of chairs in the middle of the room. All the furniture was metal, bolted to the ground. Geoff was attached to his seat by one wrist. It wouldn’t have been difficult to ditch the cuffs, but there was no reason to just yet, so he left it alone.

Despite his current situation, Geoff really wasn’t overly worried, and it showed. After being brought in, he’d made a bit of a show of tidying himself in the mirrored window, through which he knew at least one officer was watching. He’d run a hand through his hair, checked his suit to make sure it was still in good condition, brushed the concrete dust from his shoulders, straightened his bow tie, and attempted to fix the sad curls of his mustache. Now, he leaned back in his chair, one hand behind his head, and eyes half-lidded as he considered just taking a nap.

So far, Geoff guessed he’d been there for almost two hours now. After he’d been taken from the wreckage, he’d been immediately brought into the Achievement City police department, locked up in the room, and left alone. He suspected it was part of the cops’ “make-‘em-sweat” tactics. How cute.

Finally, the door opened and a detective entered, closing the door behind him. Geoff spared him a quick, passing glance, a smirk flashing across his face. “Burnie! Long time no see,” Geoff said amiably to the detective. Burnie was heavily built but not overweight, his chin covered in stubble and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. His badge flashed on his dark uniform, and he settled himself against the wall in such a way that his gun was clearly visible. It was like he expected Geoff to try and attack him, which was almost laughable.

“You’re done now, Ramsey,” Burnie said, acting like Geoff had never spoken. “You’re not going anywhere this time.”

Geoff’s smirk just grew. The detective sounded so _sure_ of himself. “Then, lemme guess, I should just get comfortable? Then how ‘bout a beer? Or something stronger if you got it. I’m parched,” he asked, relishing in the annoyed frown that passed across Burnie’s face.

“Would you mind telling me what you hoped to accomplish with this?” Burnie asked, opening a folder he’d brought with him. Considering the fact that they hadn’t had the time to compile an entire report about an hours-old heist, and Burnie had been on the scene and didn’t need notes, Geoff had a sneaking suspicion that the pages in the folder were blank. Another of their worn-out tactics. “Why would you blow up a _construction site?_ ”

“To be fair, we only blew up a box truck. It just happened to be sitting in the middle of a construction site,” Geoff corrected, readjusting himself so he was sitting fully upright and covering a yawn with the hand that had been behind his head.

Burnie sighed. “Why was there a box truck in the middle of the construction site?”

“Beats me. I don’t know why construction workers do the things they do. Maybe you should ask them,” Geoff said with a shrug. “What about that beer? My throat is dry as dicks here, dude.”

Again, Burnie ignored his request of a drink. “So, what, you just wandered onto a construction site, saw a box truck, and decided to blow it up?”

“More or less,” Geoff answered dismissively. “Thought it’d be fun.”

Burnie looked a little exasperated as he opened his mouth to continue the questioning, but before he could say anything, the door opened again. He looked up in surprise as another detective, tall and lanky with a messy head of hair, stuck his head inside. “Hello again, Geoff,” he said absently, barely even glancing at the tattooed crew leader.

“Hey, Joel,” Geoff greeted, lifting his cuffed hand in a quick wave so that the chain rattled lightly.

“What do you need, Joel?” Burnie asked impatiently, closing the folder he was holding.

“Can we get you in the lobby, Burnie? There’s…a situation,” Joel said, very carefully picking his words. He glanced at Geoff, who watched the detective with open curiosity and a smile. Burnie followed Joel’s gaze, scowled, and nodded.

“I’ll be right there,” he said, and Joel nodded once, jerkily, before retreating again. “We’ll pick this up when I get back, Ramsey.”

“I look forward to it,” Geoff said cheerfully. Burnie stepped outside and, as he did, Geoff yelled after him, “Don’t forget my beer!”

Geoff watched the door for a moment before turning back to the table. He reached up one sleeve, behind the buttons of his jacket cuff, and grabbed a warped paper clip. It was amazing what the cops would let slide when they saw a more obvious cause for a metal detector alarm. With the clip, Geoff had the cuffs off his wrist in a handful of seconds.

He was pretty sure Burnie wasn’t coming back any time soon. Though ACPD was normally swamped, they could usually spare someone to deal with the Fake AH Crew when they had to. It had to be something big and extremely distracting to pull Burnie away in the middle of his, admittedly fruitless, line of questioning. Which usually only meant one thing.

Almost as soon as Geoff was out of his cuffs, the door opened again and Jack stepped inside. Jack was a large man, someone many people considered quite intimidating, despite his generally soft and teddy-bear-like demeanor. He was heavily built, with red hair and a matching bushy beard. Instead of his Hawaiian shirt and shorts, he was dressed in a basic postal courier’s uniform, and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

Geoff looked him over and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you changing careers on me, Jack?” he asked, stowing the paper clip away where he’d gotten it.

Chuckling, Jack shook his head, glancing down the hall. “No, it’s just a cover. Now come on, we have to go before they try to disable the bomb,” he said casually, holding the door open for Geoff.

“A bomb? Just down the hall from us? Are you insane?” Geoff demanded, brushing past Jack and turning down the hall toward the back door.

“Calm down, it’s not a real bomb. It’s just a box full of wires, batteries, a ticking clock, and the innards of that Xbox controller you broke last week. But it looks like a bomb, and it fooled them. They called in bomb squad almost as soon as they got the package,” Jack assured behind Geoff.

Surprised, Geoff barked out a laugh and grinned over his shoulder. “Excellent,” he chuckled. “Do you have a car waiting?”

“Of course. It’s still running just outside,” Jack said and Geoff nodded. They turned a corner and the back door sprang into view. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Geoff broke into a run. He slammed into the push bar on the door and it launched open, while a wailing fire alarm started up in the building.

A little red sedan was parked in the alley behind the station, its engine running like Jack had promised. Despite their rush, Geoff paused in the doorway and looked skeptically at the car. “Really? This was the best you could get?”

“Oh, stop complaining and get in,” Jack sighed, pushing past Geoff to get in the driver’s seat. Geoff hesitated for a moment more before taking a couple bounding steps, sliding over the hood of the car, and landing on the pavement on the other side. He wrenched open the passenger door, slid inside, and was barely seated before Jack slammed down on the accelerator.

Geoff twisted in his seat to see Burnie run out the back door and stumble to a halt in the alley. He yelled something and threw his hands up in the air in frustration, before rushing back into the station. Jack zipped out into traffic, dodging between angry, honking cars for a short distance. As soon as they were out of sight of the station, he dropped back down to a more sedate, legal pace and acted much more like a law-abiding driver.

“We should ditch the car soon, Burnie probably saw the plates,” Geoff said, continually glancing over his shoulder. No sirens or flashing lights made themselves known, and there wasn’t anything otherwise out of the ordinary in the traffic behind them.

“I got it covered,” Jack said, watching Geoff out of the corner of his eye. “So what happened? Your coms cut out after the explosion, then I heard ACPD talking on the scanner about how they nabbed you.”

“Turns out we need to set those charges for a little bit more time. I was too close to the blast and it knocked me around a bit,” Geoff answered. “The cops responded quick as dicks and got to me before I could really get up and going. But never mind that, did it work?”

Jack sighed and nodded, pulling into a parking lot. “It worked. The site’s destroyed, all of the Corpirate’s work gone,” he said. Geoff grinned as Jack parked next to a jeep with dark-tinted windows. “Though I was thinking, Geoff… I don’t really think we’re doing all that much against him.”

“What do you mean? We’re wrecking him!” Geoff protested.

“No, we’re mildly inconveniencing him. Come on, Geoff, we’ve barely done anything. We’ve totaled some of his vehicles, scared a handful of his men – scared, didn’t even hurt – and destroyed a minor construction project he had a hand in. I don’t even know if he’s even noticed we’ve done anything,” Jack argued, twisting around in his seat so he could properly face Geoff.

The leader of the two-man crew scowled and cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Then what do you suggest? We’re doing all we can, Jack,” he huffed, staring resolutely out of the windshield.

“I think we need some help,” Jack answered immediately. Geoff spared him a quick sideways glance. It seemed as if Jack had been thinking this over for a while.

“Why?” Geoff asked slowly. “It’s been just us for years now, and we’re not doing too bad.”

“You just said we were doing all we could, and it’s not enough, Geoff,” Jack said calmly. “Having more people on the crew would help us greatly. We could have someone who actually knows how to fix the explosives like you suggested, or for crowd control, or as extra eyes and ears. We won’t have to do everything ourselves, so we can do more. And it doesn’t have to be a lot of people, just a few, to take some of the load off us.”

Geoff continued to scowl out the windshield and he could feel Jack’s eyes on him. Silence stretched for a minute and then Geoff let out a harsh breath. “I don’t know, Jack. I’ll have to think about it. Now let’s go. I really need a drink,” he said, stepping out of the car before Jack could answer.


	2. The Hacker

Gavin Free had a small, run-down apartment near the edge of the city. It was one of many, but it just happened to be his most recent haunt. The house was furnished with cheap, second-hand furniture that he wouldn’t mind leaving behind if needed. A lumpy couch sat across from an old-fashioned, bulky television in the living room. A surprisingly sleek Xbox sat beside the television, alongside a small portable CD case full of games. The kitchen counters were stacked with empty pizza boxes, Chinese takeout containers, cans of Red Bull, and beer bottles, with not a dish in sight. The bedroom, however, was set up a little differently.

A futon, folded up into a couch and covered with blankets and sheets, sat against one wall. A closet door sat open, clothes piling out in a mess centered around an open suitcase. The rest of the space was almost entirely taken up by an expansive computer set-up. Or it would have been, before Gavin started dismantling it.

Now, only three of his eight monitors were still sitting on his desk; one was dark, but one showed a CCTV feed from a camera on the open, concrete patio and the last showed an image of the parking lot in front of Gavin’s apartment. The other monitors sat in boxes that had been stuffed full of blankets and towels to protect the electronics. A camera case had been thrown onto the futon, and the rolling computer chair was shoved to the side.

Gavin was taking a power drill to the metal support bars on the walls that had once held his monitors, shoving the screws between his teeth as he pulled them out. He glanced down at the two working monitors every few seconds and moved with quick, hurried motions.

The young hacker was tall and scrawny, with messy light brown hair and a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head. His blue dress shirt was rumpled and his jeans were stained with splotches of pizza sauce. He was wearing one untied shoe, but his other foot was only covered by a sock, as if he’d gotten distracted halfway through putting his shoes on.

With a sigh, Gavin raked his hands through his hair, dislodging his sunglasses. He squawked, tried to catch them, and ended up nearly dropping a metal support on his head in the process. He did manage to drop the screws he’d been holding his mouth when he’d shouted, and they clattered to the ground behind the desk.

“Bollocks,” Gavin sighed, his British accent clear and pronounced. He slowly lowered the metal support to the desktop and dropped to the floor on his hands and knees to round up the rogue screws. He had collected most of them when he heard his front door rattle violently in its frame, the three deadbolts keeping it closed and secure. Gavin jumped, hit his head on the underside of the desk, swore again, and pushed himself upright to stare at the monitors.

Eyes wide and heart racing, Gavin stared at the images desperately, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Two men stood at his front door, visibly armed. One held his pistol at the ready and his companion had his tucked into his pants while he attempted to kick the door in. As far as Gavin could tell, the patio was unoccupied, leaving him a way out, but he didn’t know how long that would last.

Another loud bang on the door made Gavin jump again and squeak, whipping his head around to stare at the front of the apartment. He stood there for a second, frozen, before forcing himself to get moving. Gavin spun around, grabbed the camera case from the futon, and shoved a pillow aside to reveal his own, seldom-used pistol. The pistol in hand, Gavin slid the strap of the camera case over his shoulder and moved to the sliding patio doors.

Pressing his back against the wall, Gavin peered tentatively around the corner and through the glass doors. All was quiet in the back and he let out a sharp breath of relief. With any luck, the men hadn’t realized there was a second exit, and wouldn’t until it was too late. Gavin’s car was out front, but his bike was in the back alley. If he could get to that, and not crash it getting out, he’d be in the clear.

Apparently the men had realized that kicking the door was doing nothing – Gavin had to thank his paranoia and the numerous deadbolts for that. So they decided on an alternate method. Gunshots rang out, bullets punching through the door in rapid succession. Gavin squawked and ducked, covering his head with one arm as he bolted out the back door.

As soon as he rounded the corner into the alley where he parked his bike, Gavin realized he’d been wrong. The men did know about the back door, and they also seemed to know about the cameras he had monitoring the exits. He turned directly into the barrel of a gun, leveled calmly at his head by a large man who clearly knew what he was doing with the weapon. The man had a long scar cutting across his face and dark, menacing eyes.

Gavin yelped and skidded to a halt, jerkily drawing his own weapon up to point at the man in turn. His hands shook, the gun wobbling in his grip. Scarface didn’t look impressed.

“Get back,” Gavin warned, and he couldn’t even hold his voice steady. Scarface smirked.

“Why don’t you put down the gun, kid. Put it down, give me that case there, and no one has to get hurt,” he said calmly, clearly not worried about Gavin pulling the trigger. Gavin’s eyes darted down to the camera case hanging from his shoulder and back up at the man.

“I can’t let you have this,” Gavin said, shaking his head. Scarface narrowed his eyes and moved forward, gun still leveled at Gavin’s head, and the hacker jumped back. His hand jerked, finger tightening on the trigger, and a shot rang out in the alley. The man didn’t even flinch, and Gavin wasn’t even sure where that bullet had gone. “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot you, I swear!”

Scarface glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment and scoffed. “I doubt it,” he said, eyes darting into the alleyway behind Gavin. “Besides, you shoot me, and my friends here will shoot you back. And I’m pretty sure you’ll end up having a worse day.”

Gavin’s stomach dropped and he chanced a quick glance over his shoulder. The two men from the front had clearly given up on shooting the door and come around the building, possibly in response to the gunshot, or possibly because they had already planned it. They both had their weapons drawn and aimed levelly at Gavin. The hacker gulped.

Aggressive, terrifying situations were not ones that Gavin handled well. He wasn’t great at handling weapons (as he had just demonstrated), he was even worse in close-quarter fights, and few people would describe his vocabulary choice as threatening. When possible, he liked to avoid any violent situations simply by being in the background, behind a computer, and in the safety of his own home. Now, it wasn’t really an option, and the only thing he could logically do without getting harmed wasn’t exactly a pleasant option either.

The camera case no longer carried what it was supposed to. Sadly, the camera had been lost long ago, in a hide-out Gavin had had to abandon after something very similar to this had happened. But now, it held the one thing that truly mattered in his various apartments and hidey-holes: his information. A removable computer hard drive rode alongside a collection of flash drives, each one containing information he’d compiled that Gavin had deemed important, commonly used codes and programs, and basic details on clients and jobs.

Losing it would mean losing everything Gavin had worked on for the last few years. But the men weren’t leaving him much choice.

With a glance around, Gavin slowly lowered his gun. He’d consider himself lucky if he managed to shoot even one of them, let alone incapacitate all three before taking a bullet himself. A shootout would only end in one of them maybe having a hole in their foot, and Gavin dead. He didn’t really like the sound of that.

“Smart move,” said Scarface, his gun still not moving from its position a little too close to Gavin’s face. “Now hand over the case, kid.”

Gavin reached up for the case, hesitating as his fingers tightened on the strap. It was so much work and information and progress to just give up…

“Fine, take the bloody thing, if that’s what you want,” Gavin sighed, taking the case off his shoulder and handing it over. Scarface grabbed for it and Gavin kept a hold of the strap for a moment before letting go with a grimace. “Won’t do you any good anyway. It’s all encrypted.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem. You’ve been invited to come along with us as well,” Scarface said with a grin, shrugging the camera bag strap over his head without taking his eyes off Gavin. “The boss wants to have a chat.”

Gavin’s eyes widened and he glanced back at the door to his apartment, weighing his chances of making it through there, unlocking the front door, and getting to his car in the parking lot without getting shot. It didn’t look like very good odds, but he also had no intention of going with them, not if they worked for who he thought they did.

Scarface clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Now, now. I wouldn’t try anything stupid,” he said, glancing at the two men behind Gavin and jerking his head toward the hacker.

Gavin took a chance and lunged toward the door, firing wildly in the general direction of Scarface as he went. He wasn’t sure if he hit anything besides a building, but hoped the shot surprised them just enough to give him even a second’s head start. Screw the front door, he’d jump out the fucking front window if he had to.

He’d only taken a single step inside his apartment before rough, strong hands grabbed at his arm and hauled him back. Gavin screeched, flailing as he was pulled back into the alley by one of the men. The gun in his hand connected with the man when Gavin swung his arm around. There was a grunt and the grip slackened for a moment.

Swinging back again, Gavin made the man loosen his grip enough to squirm free, but this time he didn’t even reach the doors before he was grabbed again. Gavin flailed and swore and squawked, but the second man twisted Gavin’s arm behind his back.

The hacker shouted out, the gun clattering to the ground as his grip loosened. He twisted around with a grimace trying to keep his shoulder in its socket, a few involuntary whimpers coming up from his throat at the pressure. He’d also banged his exposed foot on something in the scuffle and the ache from his toes wasn’t helping matters.

“I told you not to try anything stupid,” Scarface said conversationally, as if nothing had happened. He finally lowered his gun, though it remained in his hand. “Get him to –”

“Is there a problem here?” someone called out from the mouth of the alley and Scarface’s head whipped up. Gavin tried to turn and see who had come up, hope welling in his chest, but he couldn’t move much without pulling at his arm. The man behind him tightened his grip when Gavin moved, and then the muzzle of a gun was pushed up against Gavin’s lower back. He froze immediately.

“Just a bit of a disagreement,” Scarface called out amiably, smoothly holstering his gun as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Our friend here got a little worked up, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

The speaker had moved forward and Gavin could just see him out of the corner of his eye. Not enough to know who he was, but he could make out the general shape of a large man. “Are you sure? I mean, this kid hardly looks capable of injuring a puppy,” he said.

“Looks can be deceiving. Like I said, it’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re just going to get him home,” said Scarface, glancing at the guy holding onto Gavin. He let go of Gavin’s arm and the hacker stumbled forward. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, fingers tightening on the sore muscles, and Gavin winced.

Gavin looked around at the newcomer curiously, sucking in a sharp breath when he realized that he knew them.

There were two, though the second hadn’t spoken yet. He was around Gavin’s height and older, with messy dark hair, a scruffy beard, and a rather impressive villain mustache. He wore a nice full suit with a bowtie, and his dark eyes shone with promises of mischief and chaos.

Beside him was the speaker, a large man as Gavin had noted, with red hair and a bushy beard. He had a pair of glasses, a Hawaiian shirt, and shorts, and Gavin had to wonder where he kept his gun since it wasn’t immediately visible. He was smiling quite amiably at Scarface, apparently unaware of what was fully happening, though Gavin sincerely doubted that.

Geoffrey Ramsey and Jack Pattillo were pretty big names in Achievement City, even though most of the people who ran in Gavin’s circles used the names as the butt of jokes. Gavin had found them to be extremely interesting, with their large and spectacular heists and jobs. It didn’t matter to him that a lot of them failed, and that both the members of the Fake AH Crew weren’t great at avoiding custody, just that they knew how to make a splash. And their heists looked amazing.

Gavin had suspected he’d run into the Fake AH Crew at one time or another, considering that they continued to maintain a hold on almost half the city just between the two of them, but he hadn’t expected them to have to come to his rescue.

“Maybe you could wait on that. I’d actually like to talk to him,” Geoff said, shooting Gavin a quick smile. “We’ll make sure he finds his way back to where he’ll be safe.”

“Perhaps later,” Scarface said briskly, narrowing his eyes at the two newcomers. “Now come on, we need to be going.” He turned to leave, but Gavin kept his feet planted, looking at the Fake AH Crew hopefully. The man behind him pressed the gun against Gavin’s spine impatiently. He stiffened and gulped, but didn’t move.

“I insist,” Geoff said calmly, pulling his own weapon on the man holding Gavin. “Let go of the kid, drop the weapon, and walk away before I shoot you dead.”

Everyone moved faster than Gavin would have thought possible. The other man who’d been hit around a bit by Gavin took only a second to raise his gun, aim, and fire. His shot went a little wide of Jack, who had started to draw a pistol from somewhere underneath his shirt before Geoff had even finished speaking. Jack dropped to one knee and fired. The man’s shoulder exploded in a spray of blood and he stumbled back with a cry, dropping his gun to clutch at the injury.

The man behind Gavin whipped his head around at his friend, his gun moving to the side with the motion. It was only the jerk reflex that saved Gavin’s life. The gun went off, and it felt like a flash of fire ran along Gavin’s side. He yelped and reached down to feel a gash in his shirt and trail of blood just above his hip where the bullet had grazed him.

Geoff kept to his word and, with a single shot, killed the man behind Gavin. A bullet went into his head and he stopped moving for a second and then went limp, collapsing to the ground. Gavin had to move quickly out of the way to avoid having the man fall on top of him, and pain flashed through his side, his foot, his shoulder… Practically his entire body was becoming one huge ache. This was why he preferred to work with computers.

The second man was killed by another bullet from Jack, falling next to his companion, and then the alley went silent. For about a second.

“That was cool as dicks!” Geoff hollered, tucking his gun away with a laugh. “They didn’t even see it coming.”

“That didn’t turn out too bad,” Jack agreed, looking over at Gavin. But the hacker was barely paying them any attention. He frowned down at the two dead bodies, then glanced around the alley. Only him, Jack, and Geoff were left standing. Which meant…

“Bollocks! Where’s Scarface?” he demanded, spinning in place as if the man was lurking behind him, ready to pounce.

“Who?” Geoff asked in confusion, looking around as well, before understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh! You mean the other guy? I don’t know, he hightailed it pretty quick – hey, what are you doing?”

Ignoring his various pains and injuries, Gavin pushed past Jack and Geoff and hopped onto the motorcycle propped up near his patio door, yanking his key from his pocket and jamming it into the ignition. The rather conspicuously painted American flag bike roared to life. “He has my hard drives!” Gavin said by way of explanation, and then he was shooting down the alley, narrowly missing the side of a building as he turned sharply onto the road.

Scarface couldn’t have gone far. The entire firefight had lasted all of a few seconds. He would have had to run down the alley to where, presumably, a car had been parked. He’d have to get in and, if they weren’t smart enough to have a driver waiting, start the car and pull out onto a relatively empty road. From there, he wouldn’t be that far, and likely on his way back into the city itself.

It only took Gavin a moment to spot Scarface’s car. It was a dark sports car with tinted windows, zipping around the few cars in its way. He roared after it, the wind tousling his hair, and he was kind of glad his sunglasses were still lying somewhere in his bedroom. He’d lost quite a few pairs charging down the highway like he was, and those had been expensive.

Scarface’s car wouldn’t be stopped easily by Gavin’s motorcycle, and his gun was still lying in the alley, but he had a plan in mind. It was probably a really stupid, potentially suicidal plan, but there was one there. And he needed to get his case back, dammit!

A flatbed truck cruised down the road, carrying a small stack of logs fastened to the bed. Gavin was only a second behind Scarface when they reached the truck’s back end. Scarface shot around it, swerving across the road. Gavin turned himself off-road, into the rough terrain. Dips and crests made the ground wonderful for what he was planning, and Gavin gunned the engine at a sharp rise in the ground.

The motorcycle hit it at full speed and launched upward, toward the flatbed. Gavin pulled at the handlebars, teeth clenched in preparation for his landing. The wheels hit the bundled logs hard, and a jolt of pain shot through Gavin’s body at the impact, but then he was riding up the logs and over the top of the truck.

Gavin launched himself from the truck, a strangled shout forcing its way out of his throat, the bike angled toward the black sports car. The timing wasn’t exactly right, and instead of landing on top of the car Gavin hit the trunk and bounced off. But the car swerved sideways, possibly more because of the driver’s surprise than anything Gavin had done to the car itself, while his motorcycle wobbled precariously.

With another yelp, Gavin punched the breaks, skidding wildly down the road, until he hit a speed limit sign. He’d slowed down significantly and the impact didn’t quite throw him off the motorcycle, but he did hit his chest against the handlebars and topple over with the motorcycle.

Scrambling out from beneath his bike, the hacker looked around for the sports car. It had become wedged between the flatbed and another car. The flatbed hadn’t been able to stop in time and had hit the car’s back end, crunching it under the bumper. The truck’s driver sat in the cab on his phone, eyes wide and worried as he took in the scene. The other car was a large jeep and Jack climbed out of the driver’s seat, gun in hand. When the truck driver saw the pistol, he babbled something into the phone and ducked behind the dashboard. Jack was watching Gavin worriedly as the hacker limped up to them.

When Gavin reached the sports car, he realized that there was a body behind the steering wheel and it wasn't Scarface's. He wasn't sure what had killed the guy exactly, or where Scarface had run off to, and he didn't really spend the time trying to find out. All he cared about was the camera case sitting in the passenger seat.

“You’re insane! What the hell were you thinking?” Geoff demanded from the passenger seat of the jeep, currently trapped in place by the sports car pressed against the door. Gavin grabbed the camera case and shrugged it over his shoulder, glad to feel the comforting weight of it against his side.

“This case has all my work and everything in it. I couldn’t let him leave with it,” Gavin said defensively. Now that he didn’t need to be moving, he realized how much he hurt. His side was still bleeding and now the wound was likely full of dirt and gravel and would have to be thoroughly disinfected. His sock-covered foot had been crushed a bit by his motorcycle, his leg and arm on that side were scraped up and sore, simply breathing made his chest ache, and his shoulder still throbbed from the thug’s hold on his arm. It really wasn’t how Gavin had expected his day to wind up.

“Well, at least you didn’t get yourself killed,” Jack sighed, going around the jeep and pulling open one of the back doors. “Come on, get in. We’ll make sure someone grabs your bike and gets it to a shop. We’d like to talk to you.”

Gavin looked between the two of them, a little surprised. They had already said they’d wanted to talk to him earlier, but he hadn’t been sure if it had been true. He hadn’t actually expected it to be. But it was much nicer surprise than the one that he’d received at his apartment. Besides, he’d always wanted to meet the Fake AH Crew. Gavin got in the car.


	3. An Explosive Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last full character introduction chapter before it all really starts up. Thanks, everyone, for your support, and let me know what you think!

Jack and Geoff shared an apartment just outside downtown Achievement City that had, so far, escaped the notice of both the police department and any gangs seeking to stir up trouble. It helped that the lease wasn’t in either of their names and they paid their rent in cash to get rid of a paper trail.

It wasn’t a large place, just a simple two-bedroom affair with a spacious living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. It was well-furnished, if a little messy, with dishes in the sink, shoes piled up at the front door, and various weapons littering the dining room table. But with a third person joining them in their home, it had become a little messier and a little more cramped.

It had taken very little convincing for Gavin to agree to join the crew. In fact, it had taken almost none, and he’d been ecstatic at the very idea. Enough so that, despite his various pains and injuries, he had tackled Geoff almost to the ground with the force of his hug. Already, Geoff was realizing that Gavin would be a bit of a handful, an opinion he’d formed after watching the hacker launch himself from the top of a truck onto a moving car, but from what Jack said, Gavin was good. And he’d already proven it in the first hour that they’d spent together.

Gavin really liked to talk. It hadn’t exactly been apparent when they’d first run into him, but as soon as those thugs were taken care of, he’d had a lot to say. He’d talked about how he’d been keeping track of the movements of the Fake AH Crew, including all heists, most of their contacts, and he’d even set up a system so that he received notification when Geoff and Jack’s police records were updated. While Geoff found being watched so closely to be a little unnerving, it had at least cut down on introductions and explanations.

Not much had needed to be said about the problems the crew had been having with the Corpirate. But doing anything about it had been the only thing Gavin needed to be talked into. He’d accepted the offer to join the crew immediately, suggested a few technological upgrades and changes, and offered a few of his safe-houses as refuge if need be. But on hearing the Corpirate’s name, he’d clammed up and been hesitant to offer any help or suggestions. Jack had eventually talked him into helping (Geoff had very little to do with that, since him snapping at Gavin only seemed to put him off further for some reason), and now Gavin was acting like that conversation had never happened.

Gavin had taken over the living room in Jack and Geoff’s apartment. In order to make room for him and his equipment, the second couch, coffee table, and entertainment center had either had to be rearranged in the room or taken back into one of the bedrooms. Now, Gavin and Jack were working on setting up the hacker’s elaborate system while Geoff sat back and supervised on the other couch, which mostly meant he was drinking and criticizing.

“Hey, hey, put that down. Let me get it. You’re going to start bleeding again,” Jack said as Gavin went to lift one of the monitors onto the newly-bolted support bar.

“I got it,” Gavin protested, but he couldn’t quite hide his wince when he reached up a little higher than his injuries comfortably allowed.

Jack huffed, dropped the cords he’d been sorting through into their box, and pulled the monitor from Gavin’s hands. “Go sit over there with Geoff. I’m not rebandaging your side because you’re being stubborn,” Jack said, jerking his head at the couch as he easily fitted the monitor onto the wall.

Gavin blubbered out a protest that hardly seemed to contain any words and Geoff laughed. “Don’t argue with momma bear Jack. It doesn’t work,” he advised. He held up the bottle of whisky he’d been drinking from. “Here, have a drink. It’ll get rid of some of the pain.”

Sighing, Gavin collapsed on the couch beside Geoff and grabbed the offered bottle. He took a drink and passed it back, watching Jack set up his system. “That one goes up on the top support, on the left,” Gavin said as Jack went to put up another screen. Jack paused, looking over his shoulder. “There are numbers on the edges and the cords. If it gets muddled up, my mouse jumps around weirdly.”

“Alright, I’ll keep an eye on it. You just stay there and rest,” Jack said, putting the monitor up where Gavin had told him.

“So, Gavino,” Geoff started. Gavin looked around at him curiously. “Who were those guys roughing you up earlier? You must’ve upset someone to almost get kidnapped like that.”

Gavin squirmed uncomfortably on the couch, stalling by grabbing the whisky bottle from Geoff’s hand and taking another drink. Geoff just watched him, waiting, until Gavin sighed heavily, spinning the bottle around in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure they were the Corpirate’s men,” Gavin finally said, and Geoff’s eyebrows went up. Jack stopped what he was doing and turned around curiously, leaning against the desk. “I accidentally got into some of his files, and I keep all my stuff on that hard drive. I guess they found out things were missing and somehow traced it back to me.”

“Wait, you have info on the Corpirate and you didn’t tell us?” Geoff demanded.

“Does that mean you could get into his files again?” Jack asked at almost the same time. Gavin looked between the two and frowned.

“Yeah, I have it, but most of it’s encrypted and I haven’t had a chance to take a look. And I’m not hacking back into his system again unless I have to. You saw what happened the last time I did it!” Gavin pointed out.

“But you didn’t have us to watch your back then. It’ll be fine!” Geoff insisted.

“Sure, if Scarface doesn’t tell anyone that you were there. I don’t want to go into that again,” Gavin said with a frown, one hand pulling absently at the tear in the side of his shirt, under which a faintly bloody bandage could be seen. “Let me look into what I have before I start digging more.”

“Oh, come on,” Geoff protested, but he was quickly interrupted by Jack.

“Geoff, leave it. We can give him the time. We still need to build up the crew a bit more before we go through with anything anyway. Now we just have another option for later if we need it,” Jack said calmly, going back to setting up the computer system.

“You’re still looking for more people? Now that I can help with,” Gavin said eagerly, while Geoff snatched back the bottle and sank into the couch to sulk quietly. “I know loads of people!”

Jack chuckled, finally placing the last monitor on the desk after double-checking the number on its side. “So we’ve heard,” he said wryly. “We’re looking for someone who’s good with explosives, since our luck has been…less than stellar with them. And another gun wouldn’t hurt.”

Frowning, Gavin looked up at the ceiling as he thought. Geoff watched him for a moment and then huffed. “So, do you know anyone or not?”

“Well, I do know a couple guys… One’s real into explosives, and the other is a pretty good sharpshooter. But I don’t think I should be involved with them,” Gavin said slowly.

“Why not? If they’re good, we should get ahold of them,” Geoff demanded.

Sighing, Gavin grabbed his sunglasses from where he’d put them back on top of his head, playing with the arms of the glasses. “They really don’t like me. I may have given a bounty hunter their address a couple years back,” Gavin admitted sheepishly.

Geoff groaned and pushed himself up from the couch, leaving the room and disappearing into the kitchen with his bottle and a muttered, “Nothing can be easy, can it?”

 

\-----

 

“Michael, hurry up, he’s getting on the train!” Ray said, his voice crackling through the walkie-talkie clipped to Michael’s belt. The young man scowled, shoved the transmitter between his teeth, and grabbed the walkie from his side.

“You gotta give me a second, Ray,” he grumbled around the transmitter, his words mostly lost in a garbled mess.

“Um…what?” Ray asked eloquently.

Michael sighed, set aside his bag, spat out the transmitter, and snapped into the walkie, “Give me a second! I’m almost ready. Besides, the train’s not gonna leave for a few minutes. We got time.”

“Shut up, you’re going to jinx it,” Ray muttered. Michael decided not to answer him and put the walkie-talkie back, digging around in his bag for another charge.

Michael Jones didn’t really look much like a criminal at first glance. He wasn’t exceptionally tall or imposing; in fact, his round face and curly brown hair just made him seem more child-like and innocent. He wore a leather jacket with a wolf on the back, over whichever T-shirt had seemed the least dirty that morning. Except for what he carried in his bag, few people would suspect that this young man spent most of his free time toying around with bombs.

Explosions had always been interesting and exciting to Michael, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out how to do them himself. Now, he was an expert at anything that went boom. Grenades, trip mines, remote-detonated charges, and all kinds of car bombs fell into his field of expertise, and he used them all efficiently. If a little extravagantly.

The last charge was set and placed, a little roughly, in the bathroom sink. Other explosives sat more neatly around the stalls, urinals, and the other sinks. The explosion wouldn’t cause immense destruction in and of itself, and absolutely no harm would come to anyone, but it would cause a bit of a mess and create some confusion. And the other charges Michael had set around the train station would accelerate it into a full-blown panic that would force an evacuation.

Through the bathroom door, Michael heard the train whistle blow for its last call. He swore loudly and booked it out of the bathroom, while Ray’s voice crackled at his hip, “I told you so! You jinxed it!”

Snatching the walkie-talkie off his belt again, Michael threw the bag over his shoulder and stepped out into the station. “Shut the fuck up. Are you ready or not?”

“I’ve been ready for ten minutes now,” Ray said in exasperation. “I’ve been waiting for you!”

“Alright, alright. One huge ass explosion coming up,” Michael said, stepping back against the wall. He took a quick look around the train station which, by now, was relatively empty, and smirked. Then he jabbed the button on the transmitter.

The response was immediate. An explosion rocked the station, sound booming through the enclosed space. The bathroom door swung open with the force of the explosion, water spouting from every single pipe and quickly leaking out into the station itself. Vending machines shattered outward, spraying the ground with snacks, bursting cans of soda, and bits of plastic and glass.

People screamed and the security guards jumped into movement. Some took a few steps into the open space of the station and looked around lost, not entirely sure where to start in the mess or who to look for. Others ushered the remaining people to the exits, not that they needed much urging. The train doors opened and another few guards assisted the passengers in getting off, pointing them in the direction of the front doors. Every person’s step splashed in the pooling water, and the station quickly filled with loud, chaotic chatter as people hurried out of the building.

“Do you have eyes on him?” Michael asked, pushing his way into the crowd and joining the flow out the door. He slipped the transmitter into his pocket and pulled another one from the other side of his jacket. The two transmitters were identical, except for a number two etched into the one Michael now held.

“He hasn’t come out yet. Give me a – oh, wait, I see him. Taking the shot in three,” Ray said. His count-down stopped as he set his own walkie-talkie aside to aim, but Michael was already counting it out himself. Three seconds ticked down, and he pressed the transmitter button.

A split second before the last vending machine burst, there was the sharp report of gunfire, but the sound was quickly swallowed and lost beneath the loud boom and the answering screams.

“Got him!” Ray crowed. “Meet you at the car.” Michael grinned and clipped the walkie-talkie back onto his belt, letting the hurried flow of people push and shove him out of the train station.

The street in front of the station was full of confused and terrified people. Traffic was getting blocked, and Michael was sure that the police would be around any minute to sort things out. He hoped to be out of the crowd, to his car, and out of the area before that happened.

As Michael pushed through the crowd, he could hear sirens in the distance and growing steadily closer. He cursed and the walkie-talkie buzzed at his hip, but he couldn’t hear the individual words coming through because of the continual drone of conversation around him. He figured it probably wasn’t important anyway. It was probably just Ray being a sarcastic, point-out-the-obvious little shit.

The police’s response time was really fucking fast. Two cars pulled up along the edge of the crowd by the time Michael managed to force enough people out of his way to get through. People looked around at the cars expectantly. Michael scowled and stepped backward into the crowd, pulling the walkie-talkie from his belt. “Ray, we have a problem,” he said, turning away from the cops who were stepping out of the car.

“What kind of problem?” Ray asked.

“A pig problem,” Michael answered, glancing at the cops over his shoulder.

Michael vaguely recognized a couple of the detectives. He didn’t spend much time around the police if he could help it, but he’d noticed these guys pop up a few times. Two of the cops took up positions on either side of the cop cars, watching the crowd, but another pair stayed between the cars. The larger of the two detectives climbed up onto the hood of his car with the help of the lankier detective. The two of them seemed to show up everywhere in town, despite the size of Achievement City, which was almost impressive.

But they were still cops, they were still looking for whoever had blown up the station, and a guy with a walkie-talkie and a duffel bag was often considered suspicious despite child-like appearances. The impressive factor wasn’t quite so high when Michael could get got by them.

“Excuse me, everyone,” said the detective on the car hood. His voice carried well, and people looked up at him curiously. “I am Detective Burns. I understand that whatever happened here was very unnerving and frightening, but me and my men are here to figure out what happened and put it right, so you can all rest easy. We just ask that you please stick around so that my men can get a statement from each of you. As soon as this situation has been cleared up, you all are free to go. Thanks for your cooperation.”

Frowning, Michael turned away from the cops and said into the walkie, “Cops have blocked off the road. They want to talk to fucking everyone. I’ll try and slip around them. Be there soon.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he put the walkie back on his belt.

The cops were moving to the people at the edge of the group, talking to them individually while everyone else milled around. Michael had no intention of waiting. With so many people, the investigation could take hours, and there was a good chance of getting caught. No, he was planning to just walk past them while everyone was distracted.

Michael almost made it past the police cars before he was stopped. “Excuse me, sir, wait a moment!” someone called and Michael paused mid-step, cursing under his breath. He could go and run, but so far he’d escaped the police department’s attention, and he didn’t want to have people hunting for him just because he was impatient.

Turning, Michael plastered a smile on his face, turning the walkie-talkie’s volume down to almost nothing. He didn’t trust Ray not to say something stupid and blow it. The lankier detective stepped up next to him, returning the smile, as if he hadn’t noticed that Michael’s was completely fake. “I’m sorry, sir, but could I talk to you for just a moment? I know there’s been a lot going on and you’re probably itching to go home, but it’ll only take a minute,” he said.

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, sure,” Michael said, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the road and his freedom. Despite his reservations against it, running could end up being his only option. It was better than a cop finding all his remaining explosives and the transmitters.

“Great! So what can you tell me about what happened in there?” the detective asked, pulling a small notebook from his pocket and flipping it open.

“Well, things exploded. The bathroom and the vending machines all exploded at once, and then another vending machine blew up a few seconds later. That’s all I saw,” Michael said. Which was technically the truth. He did just see all the explosions before he left the station.

The detective nodded, making a note, and then he glanced down at Michael’s bag. “Would you mind if I take a look in your bag, sir? Just a precaution, you understand,” he asked with an apologetic grin.

“Uh…” Michael started, gripping the bag strap tightly and tensing himself to make a break for it.

Before Michael could move, another voice called out, “Hello, Joel! What’re you guys doing out here?” Michael turned to look curiously and caught sight of a mustachioed man in a faintly rumpled suit walking up to the detective, hand raised in a brief greeting. “Having some troubles here?”

“Geoff! Was this your doing?” Joel asked, though he sounded more like a parent rebuking a naughty child than someone seeking answers to a train station bombing.

“Nope! Just in the neighborhood, saw the commotion, wanted to know what’s going on. So what is going on?” the man, Geoff, asked.

As Geoff stepped up next to Joel, grinning far more mischievously than any fully grown man had any right to, the other detective turned away from his interview and glanced at his partner. When he saw Geoff, he pursed his lips and stomped over. Michael inched away from the group slowly, gripping his bag strap to his chest.

“Ramsey! Of course you’re here. Joel, get him in a car. Even if he didn’t blow up this damn station, we can get him on escaping police custody,” Burns barked.

Geoff's grin widened and he put his hands up innocently. “Now, Burnie. Just calm down a moment. You know you don’t think straight when you’re flustered,” he started, but Michael wasn’t paying attention anymore. With the two detective preoccupied, he turned and walked briskly down the road and away from the scene.

Michael had parked his car a block away from the station, and it only took him a minute to get to it. Ray was waiting, leaning against the passenger door of the sleek chrome vehicle. Ray Narvaez Jr. was about Michael’s height but quite a bit skinnier, with dark hair and the start of a scruffy beard. He wore glasses and a large purple hoodie. A golf bag was slung over his shoulder, and the tip of his pink sniper rifle could only barely be seen among the fake club heads.

Though Michael had fully expected Ray to be there, he hadn’t expected the other man who stood by his car. He was a large, bulky man with a bushy red beard and glasses. His Hawaiian shirt kind of ruined any tough-guy image he could have pulled off, and he was smiling quite kindly.

“Where the fuck are you people coming from?” Michael groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. The man laughed and Ray quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I tried to tell you! Michael, this is Jack Pattillo. From the Fake AH Crew. He said he wants to talk to us,” Ray said. Michael stared for a second, then his eyes widened and he gestured back toward the chaos outside the train station.

“Fake AH? Then was that…?” he said, trailing off.

“Geoff Ramsey, yeah. He jumps on any chance to mess with Burnie,” Jack said, nodding. “I said it would be easier to just let you work it out yourself, but Geoff insisted on messing with the cops. Though I swear, if he gets arrested again, I’m not going to get him.”

Michael dug his keys from his pocket and unlocked the car, popping the trunk. He tossed his duffel bag into the back, alongside a collection of guns. Ray passed over his golf bag and it joined everything else in the trunk. “How’d you guys find us?”

“We had a little bit of help,” Jack said as Michael slammed the trunk closed again. “You’ll probably be meeting him soon. Just…don’t hurt him.”

Ray and Michael exchanged confused glances before the former asked slowly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” Jack said cryptically. “Now, I think I see Geoff coming. We should get going, before someone sees us all lingering back here. We can talk on the way.”

Michael looked over his shoulder to see Geoff running up to the car. He frowned, looking between the two members of the Fake AH Crew, and then shrugged. “Fine. But I’m driving.”


	4. Five-Man Crew

“Why the fuck did you have to go talk to those fucking detectives?” Michael growled, banging on his steering wheel angrily. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked in the past few minutes, and Ray was pretty sure that, if the trend continued, it wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset. We’re fine,” Geoff huffed from the back seat.

“You might be fucking fine, but it’s _my fucking car_ they’ve been following! They didn’t know who I was fifteen fucking minutes ago and now they know my car,” Michael raged, turning to glare at Geoff. Ray sighed and slid down in the passenger seat.

Whatever Geoff had done to get away from the detectives, it definitely hadn’t been subtle. When Michael had pulled out onto the road, it had been right in front of the detectives’ car. Ray wasn’t sure if Geoff had made himself known or the detectives had made a lucky guess, but their lights and sirens had clicked on, and Michael had been forced to lead them on a merry chase through the city.

Ten minutes later, they’d managed to give the cops the slip long enough to find a place to bunker down and wait for their interest to fade. The car was parked near the train tracks, between rows of unloaded shipping containers. Michael kept glancing at the mirrors as his fuming became quieter. Ray didn’t catch much of what he was muttering to himself except “talking to fucking cops” a couple times. He’d at least been right in assuming that it wasn’t the last time Michael would mention it.

“Do you think they’re gone yet?” Ray asked into the tense silence, turning in his seat to look through the rear window. Geoff was staring out his window, frowning, while Jack was doing something on his phone.

“I can check,” Jack said, pushing a couple buttons on his phone and bringing it up to his ear. It seemed to take a little bit for whoever was on the other end to answer and Jack started to make a ‘hurry up’ gesture with his hand absently. “Oh, hey,” he finally said. “What took you so long? … You do realize it’s three in the afternoon, right? … Alright, whatever you say. Hey, we have a police scanner in the apartment, can you check it real quick, see where the cops are at? The scanner’s on Geoff’s dresser.”

Ray listened curiously, wondering who Jack was talking to. From what he’d heard, the Fake AH Crew consisted only of Jack and Geoff, and it was doubtful one of their contacts was in their place. Though Jack did say that someone helped to track Ray and Michael down. It could be the mystery person that the two of them weren’t supposed to hurt.

“Our scanner’s fine, just turn it on,” Jack said after a moment, and even Michael stopped glowering out the front window to look around at Jack. “I don’t even know what that means… Look, you can tinker with it later, when we don’t have the detectives following us… Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you to turn on the scanner.”

Jack went quiet for another minute or two and then nodded, grinning. “Great, thanks. We’ll be back shortly. Don’t mess with the scanner until we’re there, just in case we need it again.” He hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket. “They’re about four blocks further east. If we go now, we should be able to get back before they realize they need to turn around.”

Michael nodded and put the car in drive. “Where are we going, then?”

“To our apartment. We can talk on the way,” Geoff said, though he was still staring out the window as he spoke.

“Fine. Give me directions. And stop fogging up my window,” Michael grumbled. Geoff just huffed in response and the window fogged over rapidly. Ray was pretty sure the crew leader was smirking.

“What are we talking about, exactly? Besides Michael’s car?” Ray asked as Jack started directing Michael back out onto the road.

Geoff finally turned away from the window, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “We need your help with something,” he said, clasping his hands together under his chin.

“What’s the job?” Michael asked immediately but Ray frowned, looking between the two of them. He normally jumped on a chance at a new job – him and Michael were pretty good, and yet jobs didn’t come up as frequently as he’d like – but things weren’t quite adding up.

“I thought you guys didn’t do outside hires,” Ray said in confusion.

“We don’t,” Jack answered, leaning on the back of Ray’s seat so he could see out the front past Geoff. “Take a right here.”

Michael followed Jack’s directions, keeping a close eye out for any police cars in the area. “But if you don’t hire outside the crew… Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Michael asked, previous anger gone like a switch had been flipped. It always amused Ray how quickly his friend could change gears when he felt like it.

“As long as you think that I’m going to ask you two to join the crew, then yes,” Geoff said calmly. Michael rubbernecked around to look at Geoff, eyes wide and a grin breaking across his face.

“Really?” he asked eagerly. His attention now fixed on Geoff, he clearly didn’t notice when the light he was coming up to turned red.

Ray stared at the light, bracing himself on the dashboard, and said in a slightly strained voice, “Michael…” Michael turned back around, much too close to the light to attempt stopping, and swore loudly. He wrenched the wheel around to avoid an oncoming vehicle, punched the gas, and shot through the light while other cars slammed on the brakes and a chorus of horns sounded behind him.

“Shit, sorry!” Michael said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He chuckled, shooting a quick smile at Ray and then the two men in the backseat.

Ray took his hands off the dashboard, checked to make sure Michael was watching the road now, and turned to look at Geoff and Jack. They didn’t seem to have been greatly phased by the near-miss, and Jack was still directing Michael. Though both of them were now sitting back in their seats again. “So are you guys serious?” Ray asked.

“Completely. We’re trying to build up the crew in order to go up against the Corpirate. You guys know him?” Geoff said, looking between Michael and Ray questioningly.

“Yeah. We’ve talked,” Ray answered with a frown, shaking his head.

“He’s a fucking asshole. He got pissed when we didn’t take a job of his. Some fucked-up intimidation shit. He put a bounty out on us, nearly got us killed,” Michael growled.

Ray caught Geoff and Jack exchange a troubled glance and his frown deepened. He felt like there was something the two crew members weren’t telling them. But they didn’t give him a chance to ask about it, pushing on ahead with the conversation.

“That makes that easier. So, you want to help?” Geoff asked.

“Turn in here. The apartment’s in the back of the complex,” Jack added to Michael, pointing past him to the entrance of a nice, green-lawned apartment complex. It was only a couple blocks past the train station, and Ray was a little curious as to whether or not the cops still had the station on lock down.

“Fuck yeah we’ll help. Anyone puts a bounty out on us, I want them to fucking suffer. No way the lads go down without a fight,” Michael said strongly.

“Yeah, we’re in,” Ray agreed. Geoff grinned and leaned forward to clap both of them on the shoulder.

“Great! Now you just have to meet the other new hire,” he said cheerfully.

“Just remember, no hurting, please,” Jack repeated.

Michael parked the car as far from the road as he could, and Ray hoped that it would escape notice so far back. A chrome car was a little conspicuous. Michael frowned at Jack over his shoulder, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Why do you keep saying that? Who the hell did you bring in?” he demanded.

Geoff sighed heavily and stepped out of the car, closing the door firmly behind him. Michael hollered at him to be careful with the car as everyone else climbed out.

The apartment was in the last building, on the ground floor. Jack dug a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, sighed, and pushed the door open. “Hey, Gav! We’re back with reinforcements,” he called into the apartment.

Someone squeaked further in the apartment, and Ray lifted an eyebrow at the sound, following Jack inside.

They stepped through the dining room, and Ray caught sight of the extensive computer system that seemed to have taken over the living room. It looked like a Best Buy had tried to fit itself into the small apartment, with limited success. Not only was there a large spread of monitors along a wall, but there was a couch that had been taken over by cords, cameras, and various electrical bits and pieces that Ray couldn’t even begin to identify. In the middle of the mess was a young man – tall, with light brown hair, dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, and kind of familiar.

The young man looked up, smiled nervously, and lifted his hand in a brief wave. “Uh…hi,” he said.

“You?! What the fuck are you doing here?” Michael yelled right behind Ray, and Ray flinched away with a hand over his ear. He noticed Geoff had disappeared and Jack was lingering a little further back, just watching.

“You know, I didn’t mean to tell him… Michael… Michael, please,” he stammered, sliding backwards in his rolling chair as Michael stomped around the couch, hands clenched into fists at his side.

“You sold us out, you fucking weasel!” Michael yelled, glaring daggers at the young man. Though now Ray knew where he knew him from. The bounty hunter that had come for him and Michael had squealed when he realized he was outmatched, and named the hacker who’d give him the address. Gavin Free. They’d visited Gavin briefly after that fiasco, but the hacker had been slippery enough that he’d disappeared before Michael could do anything stupid. Now, though, only Ray stood between the two. At least, he figured he probably should step in, before the last member of the crew ended up dead.

Michael grabbed the front of Gavin’s shirt, dragging him closer. Gavin squawked, threw his hands up in front of his face, and tried to pull away from Michael. “Michael, please,” he yelled. Ray vaulted the couch, nearly crushed a loose circuit board, and landed a little less than lightly next to Michael.

“Hey, man, come on. Let him go,” Ray said, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder, but his friend didn’t do much more than tighten his grip and shake Gavin. The hacker paled and winced.

“This fucker should be fucking dead, Ray. Because of him, you almost were!” Michael growled through clenched teeth. Ray reached up with his free hand to rub at a scar on his chest, a phantom pain growing from the old bullet wound at the memory. “You should be pissed!”

Ray’s grip tightened on Michael’s shoulder, not quite attempting to physically pull his friend away. Not yet. “Yeah, that really kind of sucked, but it’s not his fault,” Ray said as calmly as he could. He’d found that keeping his cool in the face of Michael’s rage was the best way to talk Michael down from his idiotic plans at times. “That guy would have found us one way or another. Gavin was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Right?”

Gavin nodded quickly, peeking at Michael around his splayed fingers. Michael glared for a moment more and then threw Gavin back down in his chair. Gavin slid a few inches until the back of his chair hit his desk and he flinched, one hand going to his side.

“Are we all good?” Jack asked hesitantly from the dining room, stepping up behind the couch.

“You should’ve fucking told me you had this prick here,” Michael grumbled, walking away from Gavin to flop down at the dining room table, in a chair where he didn’t have to face Gavin. Ray let him go, knowing he need time to calm down.

Jack sighed, moving around to Gavin’s side. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Gavin rubbed at his side and lifted his shirt, revealing bandages wrapped around his stomach. Spots of blood showed on the white fabric. “I think it opened again,” he said, his voice a little tight and pained.

Jack sighed and crouched down, gently pulling the bandages away from Gavin’s skin. “Yeah, looks like it’s bleeding. Hey, Ray,” he said, looking up at the sharpshooter. “There’s a first-aid kit under the kitchen sink. Mind grabbing that for me?”

“Sure,” Ray said, going around to the kitchen and grabbing the kit. He came back to find Michael had disappeared, likely in search of Geoff, and Jack had just finished cutting off Gavin’s existing bandages. Ray handed the kit over and Jack nodded his thanks, instructing Gavin to take off his shirt. “So…what happened? I know Michael didn’t just do that.”

“I got shot a couple days ago,” Gavin said, wincing as Jack disinfected the injury. “And beat up a bit. And almost kidnapped. It was a busy day.”

Ray snorted out a brief laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds exciting,” he said, perching on the back of the couch.

They sat in silence for a moment while Jack worked. As soon as Jack tied off the bandages, he sat back on his heels, looking from Gavin to the monitors. “So how’s breaking the encryption going?” he asked.

“Um…it’s not,” Gavin said sheepishly, throwing his shirt back on. Jack packed up the first aid kit, staring at Gavin until the hacker squirmed in his seat. “What? I’ve been pretty bloody busy, haven’t I? I had to find them!”

“And I was hoping you’d be working on decrypting the Corpirate’s stuff while we were gone,” Jack said, clicking the first aid kit shut, though he made no move to get up and put it away.

“I had to stay up all night working! I was tired. You woke me up,” Gavin complained, spinning around to face the desk and booting up the computer.

“Where were you sleeping?” Ray asked, looking at the scraps and wires covering the couch, under which were blankets and pillows that looked like they’d once made up a bed.

“Geoff’s room,” Gavin answered with a shrug. “I can get started on this now, Jack.”

“That’d be nice, yeah,” Jack said, pushing himself upright, first aid kit in hand. “I’ll let Geoff know you’re working on it. Ray, are you and Michael going to be sticking around here?”

Ray glanced down the hall. He could faintly hear his friend’s voice, lowered in frustration and not yet fully audible. “I think Michael would prefer we head back to our place for a bit,” he said. “I’ll get you our numbers so you can get ahold of us.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have them,” Gavin said without turning away from his monitors. Ray just stared at him for a moment and then nodded slowly.

“Okay… Then you know how to reach us,” he finally said. He raised his voice and hollered down the hall, “Hey, Michael! We’re all set here. You ready to go?”

It took a moment, but Michael appeared from down the hall, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, let’s go,” he said, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “See you, Jack. Later, Geoff!” The second goodbye was yelled down the hall, and Ray didn’t quite catch an answer before Michael was storming back out of the apartment.

After that, things weren’t nearly as exciting. Ray and Michael spent most of their time at their own place. Michael didn’t want to spend much time around Gavin, and Ray didn’t want to leave him to glower and grumble all on his own. Things tended to blow up when Michael got in a mood.

So they spent some of their time looking through their supplies for anything that they deemed important for their new crew. Michael worked on new explosive designs (plus testing, which cheered him up a bit), and Ray spent a considerable amount of time making sure his various guns were cleaned, loaded, and he had the extra ammo stored somewhere easily accessible. Yet despite their care and attentiveness to their own crafts, a lot of time was also spent lounging around playing video games and waiting for a call.

The call came a few days after they’d been invited to the crew. Ray was in the middle of a Halo level, in his attempt to complete them all on Legendary, when Michael stepped into the living room with his phone pressed to his ear. “Okay… Yeah, sure… Twenty minutes,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, bye.”

“Was that them?” Ray asked, his attention fixed on the screen and the elite trying to eat his face.

“Yeah, it was Geoff. He says they found something. He wants us over at their place right now,” Michael said, leaning on the back of the couch as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “Don’t forget about the grunt around that corner.”

“I got him,” Ray said, making sure to shoot said grunt as soon as he could see it. “I’m just about done, so… Oh, shit, shit, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna – no, never mind, we’re good. I got it.” Michael laughed and clapped Ray on the shoulder, pushing himself up from the couch.

“Well hurry up. Geoff’s expecting us,” he said, turning around to hunt for his shoes.

It was a little over twenty minutes later when they pulled up in front of Jack and Geoff’s apartment again. They let themselves in to the apartment, and Ray noticed a camera tucked up above the door that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there a few days ago.

Somehow, the living room was even messier than it had been before. Most of the electrical components had been shoved into a corner, but the couch was draped in blankets, pillows, and clothing. A stack of plates sat next to a collection of glasses on the floor, and Red Bull cans littered the desk and the area around it. Like before, Gavin sat in the middle of it all, at his desk. Ray recognized a few camera feeds, Word documents, and what looked like a YouTube video up on the screens.

Geoff and Jack sat at the dining room table, which was the closest seating to the living room with Gavin’s mess taking over. “Glad you guys could make it,” Geoff said, gesturing them closer. “Gavin found something.”

Gavin nodded, leaning back in his seat and running a hand over his face. He was no longer in his pajamas, and instead wore jeans and a rumpled dress shirt that had been poorly stitched up along the side. “Yeah, a bunch of nothing,” he mumbled. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Ray was pretty sure he hadn’t slept much recently.

“Everything that I got from the Corpirate was encrypted, and he’s really bloody paranoid, so it took a bit of time to fix,” Gavin continued, spinning around to face them. “It’s not much of anything, really. Expense reports, police records, past jobs and plans… Pretty much all stuff I could find without his files if I really wanted to.”

“Except for that one file,” Jack corrected, nodding to one of the monitors. Ray glanced over at it, but saw nothing of real importance. A list of names and dates in a basic Word document set-up. It didn’t look that interesting or impressive.

“Well, yeah, but we can’t do anything with it,” Gavin groaned, poking at the monitor. “These are names of contacts and guys he’s been reaching out to with job opportunities. I don’t know what the dates are, but there’s only a few of them in this whole list, so it’s probably about a few key events. But without more details, we don’t know what’s going on.”

Michael huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “So you got fucking nothing. Why are we here, then?” he grumbled.

“Because I have a plan,” Geoff said, clasping his hands on top of the dining room table. “So Gavin says there’s some problem getting to the files again so we can find what we need.”

“Yeah, he localized his connection. His entire network is closed off. I can’t get into the network anymore unless I’m in his house, at his computers,” Gavin explained.

“Right, that. So… I want to know what he’s planning, so I can ruin it,” Geoff said cheerfully. “And if the only way to do that is from his computer, so be it. We’re gonna break into the Corpirate’s house.”


	5. Infiltration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the support, guys! I love writing this and am glad that people love reading it.
> 
> That said, enjoy the latest exploits of the Fake AH Crew!

Where the Corpirate lived could be considered less a house and more of a mansion. It was a grand, sprawling building set a little ways outside the city. A high stone wall surrounded the property, with the only entrance being through the single guarded gate. Cameras perched at regular intervals along the top of the wall, and the trees had been cut away from it on both sides, making it impossible to climb over that way. At this time of night, few lights were on in the house, and Gavin was desperately hoping that the Corpirate simply wasn’t home.

“Are you guys almost done?” Geoff asked, his voice coming through the new earpieces Gavin had put together. Geoff and Jack’s had been blown out during their last heist, and Gavin had scoffed at the walkie-talkies that Michael and Ray had been using, so he’d taken some time to work out a new system. The new earpieces were small, comfortable, emitted a GPS signal that could be monitored from Gavin’s computers, and could pick up a whispered message clearly. He was quite proud of them.

“I’m just about ready,” Michael said, pausing for a moment to put a hand up to his earpiece while he spoke. Gavin had assured him it would work fine without him fiddling with it, but Michael hadn’t seemed overly convinced. He’d turned the volume up so high that Gavin could hear tiny voices coming from his earpiece in a strange echo to his own. “Ray?”

“All good here,” Ray confirmed. Gavin looked away from Michael and craned his neck back, staring up into the tree branches above him. Bits of pink and purple showed through the leaves from Ray’s gun and hoodie, where he’d found an acceptable place to camp out. “I can almost see the whole backyard. This guy loves his things. I think that pool is, like, fifty percent gold.”

“Gold pool? That just screams criminal mastermind,” Jack scoffed over the earpiece. “Real sloppy.”

A zipper slid closed audibly and Gavin looked back at Michael. The explosives expert sat back on his heels, throwing his backpack over his shoulders. The wall in front of him was riddled with strips of duct tape, carefully linked with a thin black cord. “We have to be ready to go as soon as this thing blows. They’re gonna come running,” Michael warned.

“Got it. You guys all set, then?” Geoff asked.

“Still good. Blow it whenever, Michael,” Ray answered a tad impatiently.

“Team Nice Dynamite is ready to run!” Gavin said, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster when his stomach was flipping and his legs were shaking like Jell-O.

Michael paused with his mouth open, a split second away from speaking, and turned to Gavin with a scowl. “Team Nice Dynamite? Are you fucking serious? We don’t need some stupid team name. I don’t even know what that means,” he scoffed. Gavin jutted out his lower lip in a pout, but Michael turned away, grumbling to himself.

“Michael, play nice,” Jack scolded. Michael flapped his hand dismissively, standing up and grabbing Gavin’s arm roughly. He dragged Gavin back behind one of the trees, pulled out one of his transmitters, and pushed the button.

The det cord blew with the biggest bang Gavin had ever heard. He yelped and leaped away, hands flying up to cover his ears. Michael seemed strangely unperturbed by the loud noise.

Before the smoke had settled, and while Gavin’s ears were ringing annoyingly, Michael grabbed him again and jerked him toward the new hole in the wall. Gavin was pretty sure Michael was yelling at him, and he could make out only the faintest buzz of sound from the earpiece, but he knew what he was supposed to be doing. He started running.

The Corpirate really did have an expansive backyard. Trees, bushes, and statues littered the area like discarded toys. The half-golden pool glowed where it sat, lights shining from beneath the water and glittering off the metal. It really could have been kind of nice, if Gavin wasn’t afraid of getting gunned down in the open grass.

Michael still had a painful hold on Gavin’s arm and was half-dragging the hacker across the yard. He yanked Gavin sideways, away from the big back door, like they had planned. He got them both behind a collection of statues just in time, as the back door burst open and a handful of thug-like security guys poured out.

They only took a couple steps into the yard before a gunshot cracked in the night, more muffled than it normally would have been with Gavin’s ears ringing the way they were. The security thugs scattered, drawing weapons, as more gunshots rang out in a steady rhythm, dirt spraying up around the guys’ feet.

Michael and Gavin went around the Corpirate’s guys, letting them get distracted by Ray and his sniper rifle. They instead made for the little side door into the garage, which required that they circle around most of the yard, but it also gave the Corpirate’s men time to fully leave the house.

The door into the garage was locked, but all it took was for Michael to beat the window out with the butt of his gun and reach through the opening to unlock it. He winced as a stray shard of glass sliced across his arm and jerked his arm out of the hole, cradling it to his chest.

“You okay, Michael?” Gavin asked worriedly. His hearing was starting to return to something resembling normal, so he could finally hear Jack on the other end of the coms.

“Why? What happened?” Jack asked. Both of their questions were met only by a derisive snort from Michael as he yanked the door open.

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” he huffed, prodding at Gavin to get him moving. “Go!” Gavin spared Michael and his injury one more quick glance before he sighed and stepped through the door, Michael close behind.

Without a direct connection to the Corpirate’s system, and with most the outside files pertaining to him long since wiped out, Gavin hadn’t been able to put together a blueprint of his house. The best they had was Michael’s memory of a single meeting almost three years ago. Which would have worked fine, if they’d entered in a place that Michael knew.

The garage was massive, easily big enough to hold a full-sized tank, though at the moment it was just littered with various expensive personal vehicles. Besides the door they’d entered from, there was the giant roll-up door, and two more small doors that presumably led into the house.

“Where do we go?” Gavin asked, looking between the two unknown doors.

“How the fuck should I know? Just pick one and go,” Michael insisted, apparently more concerned with inspecting his cut than actually getting anywhere.

Gavin sighed and went to the closest door, cracking it open and peeking around the door frame. The room was dark and he didn’t see anyone moving around, so he decided it was safe enough and stepped inside. The door opened up into a laundry room, with shelves of cleaners and fabric sitting across from the washer and dryer. Even the laundry room was far larger than it really needed to be, about the size of Gavin’s old bedroom. It was ridiculous.

Reassured by the quiet of the mansion, and the fact that Michael didn’t seem overly concerned, Gavin stepped out into the hall much more confidently. He could hear the faint crack of Ray’s steady gunfire, and the sharpshooter’s occasional triumphant and mocking comments, over the earpieces. Jack and Geoff maintained a quiet drone of conversation in the background in an attempt to keep themselves occupied, pitching their voices low enough that Gavin couldn’t make out much of what they were saying behind Ray’s shots. But it was comforting, and it helped calm his nerves. Even Michael wasn’t making it too bad, despite his constant griping and grumbling and swearing.

At least, Gavin was feeling pretty good about their plan of breaking and entering, until he nearly hit a man with the laundry room door.

The man jumped back and whirled around, staring at Gavin in surprise. Gavin froze, staring back with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Behind Gavin, Michael groaned, “Oh, fuck.”

Instantly, the man’s surprise changed to anger and he went for his gun. At about the same time, Michael shoved Gavin against the doorframe and lunged at the man with his bare hands. The man shouted and fired his gun before it was fully up, his shot going wide. And then Michael slammed into him, nearly knocking them both to the ground and making the man drop his weapon.

Michael grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and hit him solidly in the jaw with his other hand. The man flinched back in pain, but he also kicked his foot out at Michael’s knee, throwing his arm up at the same time in an attempt to break Michael’s grip.

Michael stumbled back a step at the kick, growling, but his grip only tightened on the man’s shirt. He punched him in the face again and then lifted a leg and kicked at the man’s gut, letting go of his shirt at the same time. The man fell backwards, landing on his back with a grunt, and Michael followed him down.

Pinning the man in place with a knee to his chest, Michael slammed his fist down again, growling out, “Would you just go down already?” The man spit a mouthful of blood in Michael’s face, more blood streaming from what was likely a broken nose, and reached up to try and pry Michael off of him. His fingers dug into the cut on Michael’s arm and the explosives expert let out a shout that almost sounded like a roar.

Yanking his arm viciously from the man’s grip, he grabbed up the fallen gun, and clubbed the man as hard as he could in the side of the head with the butt. The man finally went limp and stopped fighting. Michael glared at him for a moment and then got up, shoving the gun in his jacket pocket. Gavin just watched, stunned, still pressed against the door frame where Michael had pushed him.

“That was top,” he finally said with a grin.

“Everyone okay there?” Geoff demanded over the earpieces.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Michael spat, one hand at his earpiece, the other pressed against the cut on his arm. “This idiot just almost got himself fucking killed.”

“Aw, you saved him, Michael? You’re making friends,” Ray taunted, another gunshot punctuating his sentence. Michael grumbled something unintelligible and stormed off down the hall, leaving Gavin to trot along behind him.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to get to a place Michael recognized, and from there, it took even less time to get upstairs to the Corpirate’s office. It seemed as if the man they’d run into had been the only one still in the house, since they didn’t run into anyone else on the way there. They didn’t hear anyone, either, and every room they passed remained dark. Gavin was a little wary about getting comfortable, since last time he had he’d run into someone, but he was feeling all right again.

The door to the Corpirate’s office was locked, but it didn’t take much effort for Michael to kick it open. After two kicks, the door splintered around the knob and flew open, banging against the wall. Gavin followed him inside, attempting to close the door somewhat nicely behind him.

Like most other parts of the house, the Corpirate’s office was big. Shelves covered two of the walls that Gavin could see, and the other wall was made of giant windows. The curtains were pulled open, and Gavin could see the backyard, lit by the moon. People moved around on the grounds, and he imagined he could faintly make out the pink of Ray’s sniper rifle from in his tree.

“Is this going to take long?” Michael asked, also watching the movement outside.

“I don’t think so,” Gavin answered, going around the Corpirate’s desk and sitting in his tall, comfy chair. A single monitor rested on the desk’s clean surface, the tower tucked neatly underneath the desk. Gavin powered on the computer, and then the room was bathed in brilliant, artificial blue light. He looked up in surprise, to the wall the door was set into. Monitors covered the wall, a far more expansive set-up than even Gavin’s, and each monitor had come to life at the push of the button.

It took a moment for the computer to boot up fully, and when it finished loading up, camera feeds sprang up on the wall monitors. Each monitor showed a different image from the grounds, the house, and the streets outside. The monitor on the desk showed a simple desktop, with tiny images along the bottom like a slideshow where Gavin could select one of the many other screens.

Gavin plugged a flash drive into the tower and got to work sifting through the Corpirate’s computer. There was a lot saved into the one computer and numerous pathways and folders, most of which were locked or held the same encryption that the previous collected files had. Some were even written in code, and Gavin couldn’t even begin to understand what they were. And he didn’t exactly have the time to break into each individual file.

“I don’t even know what to look for. Most of his files are locked down,” he said in frustration, working through the ones that he could easily access first.

“Why don’t you just take them all? We’ll look at them back at the apartment,” Jack suggested. Gavin shifted uncomfortably in the seat, resolutely not tearing his eyes away from the screen.

“Uh…yeah… There’s a ton of stuff here and I kind of grabbed an eight gig flash drive. It won’t all fit,” Gavin said sheepishly. There was a brief, stunned silence over the coms, except for Ray’s continued gunshots.

“Why?” Ray finally asked slowly. “Why didn’t you bring an external hard drive? Or a bigger flash drive? You knew what we were doing!” Gavin frowned and shrugged, even though only Michael could see him. He’d pretty much just grabbed the first one he’d seen without double checking the size. It hadn’t been until he’d gotten in the car that he’d look at it, and he hadn’t wanted to bring it up at the time.

Michael scoffed, still staring out the window. Finally, he turned on his heel and headed out the door. Gavin looked up from the computer, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Michael? Where are you going, Michael?” he asked worriedly. Michael was supposed to be there as his backup. If he left, Gavin would be on his own if something happened, and he didn’t like his chances of taking out a guy like the one Michael had fought with.

“I’m going for a walk. Make sure there’s no one else around. You’re fine,” Michael said dismissively.

“Michael, stay with Gavin,” Jack said sternly. Michael rolled his eyes and pulled his earpiece from his ear, throwing it in his pocket as he walked out.

“Michael? Michael, answer us,” Geoff barked, but he got no answer. “God dammit, what’s going on?”

Gavin stared at the door, torn between finishing his work and following Michael. “Um…Michael left,” he said, glancing up at the monitors in front of him. From them, he could easily follow Michael’s progress as he walked through the halls. “What should I do?”

“Just keep going, Gavin,” Jack said soothingly. “Figure out what you need as quick as you can, then we can be gone. Nothing’s gonna happen while you work.”

“If it does, yell,” Geoff added. “I’ll talk to Michael when this is done. Just get those damn files.”

Gavin gulped and nodded, going back to his search. He glanced up at the other screens every few seconds, worried about what he might find coming toward him. He caught glimpses of Michael on the cameras occasionally, apparently unharmed and perfectly fine. At least it meant there was nothing going on where Michael was, which was good.

Another couple minutes passed with Gavin getting more and more frustrated with what he was finding. He let out an annoyed sigh and leaned back in the chair, going back to watching the camera feeds. He caught movement and froze, fingers tightening on the arms of the chair.

Michael was moving around on the ground level, near the kitchen. But that wasn’t what concerned Gavin. It was the man walking down the hall toward the office that worried Gavin. He carried a gun at the ready and walked quickly, like he knew where he was going.

“Um…Geoff?” Gavin said nervously, watching the man get closer. “I think we have a problem.”

“What kind of problem? What’s going on?” Geoff demanded. Gavin looked around the room quickly for a place to hide and ended up sliding out of his chair and curling up beneath the desk, hugging his knees to his chest.

“There’s someone here,” Gavin answered quietly, and then the door opened and he froze, holding his breath.

“Gavin? Are you okay?” Jack asked, but Gavin didn’t trust himself to say anything, even quietly. Just in case whoever else was in the room heard him. “Geoff, we should go.”

“Hang in there, Gav. We’re coming to help,” Geoff assured. Gavin wasn’t entirely sure how they would help, since they’d parked a couple blocks away from the house to be safe, but he had to hope that they would come up with something.

The man who’d come in walked slowly around the room, pausing every few steps. Gavin could clearly hear him moving around and he started shaking. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for, and he’d been counting on Michael to have his back. But now he was alone with one of the Corpirate’s men, again, and with no foreseeable backup. It was terrifying.

“I know you’re in here. Come on out,” the man purred, and Gavin’s blood went cold. He recognized that voice, from the attempted kidnapping. The only man to get away, to who knew where. Scarface had come to look for him again.

Scarface slowly circled the desk, until Gavin could see his shoes and his pant legs. The rolling chair was pulled away from the desk and Gavin squeezed his eyes closed, curling closer in on himself and just waiting for the crack of the gun.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, someone running across the carpet. Gavin desperately hoped it was Michael, coming back to help, as the newcomer charged into the room. But he was sorely disappointed when Scarface asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” a new voice answered. It was deep and vaguely threatening, slightly muffled by the wooden walls of the desk that surrounded Gavin, and a chill ran down Gavin’s spine.

“I saw the light from outside. Thought I saw someone moving around in here, so I wanted to check it out. And I’m sure you noticed the broken door,” Scarface said and Gavin slowly opened his eyes again. Scarface hadn’t moved, but he seemed more preoccupied with the new person now instead of finding Gavin.

There was movement in the room as the other man strolled around the desk, his heavy combat boots striking the floor firmly despite the plush carpeting. “Do you really think anyone’s still here? It’s been more than ten minutes since that sniper started shooting. Whoever was here is probably long gone,” he said, stepping around the desk. All Gavin could see were his boots and jeans, and the barrel of a gun hanging loosely from his hand.

“That’d be real sloppy of them, leaving the files they were snooping through up when they left. I think they’re still here. It’s probably that hacker we went after before, the one who’s already gotten into our system, come back to finish the job,” Scarface insisted.

The newcomer set his gun on the desk with a thunk, then Gavin heard the tapping of keyboard keys. “Are you telling me whoever broke in here was really last looking at the upgrades to the house?” he scoffed. “They’ve covered their tracks. Leave it. We’ll check the cameras, follow up with whoever shows up on them, like we normally do. For now, we need to get rid of that sniper,” the new man said calmly.

Scarface growled. “I’m telling you, he’s still here, and I will prove it, you smug son of a bitch,” he said, kicking underneath the desk. His foot collided solidly with Gavin’s side and the hacker couldn’t help but squeak in pain, fear, and surprise.

Luckily, it was at that exact moment that Geoff yelled out a wordless challenge through the earpieces and a resounding crash came up from downstairs, making Gavin jump and nearly bash his head on the desk. “What the fuck?” said the new man in surprise. “God dammit. Go, go!” He and Scarface ran out of the room, previous search forgotten. Gavin waited until he heard their footsteps retreating before he peeked up over the desk.

The room was empty again except for him. He let out a sharp breath and stood up, while more frenzied gunfire sounded in his earpiece. “That was really fucking fast,” Geoff said. “Gavin, do you have it yet?” Gavin looked at the camera feeds, pausing the stare at one of them in surprise for a moment.

The front door was completely gone, and rubble littered the entry way. It had also fallen on the hood of the car that had run through the building and now sat with its front half inside. Jack was shooting from behind the wheel, and Geoff had gotten out and was using the passenger door as cover. Scarface was shooting back at them, alone, and Gavin saw a couple men detach themselves from the chaos outside to investigate the new disruption at the front.

“Um…give me a minute,” Gavin said, turning back to the monitor. The last file he’d been looking at, a blueprint and notes on renovations the Corpirate had been planning on his dining area, was still up on the screen. He closed out of that, and another file popped up behind it. It was a list of names and dates, identical to the one that Gavin had found before. Frowning, he went to the folder that held the document, skimming through the information. Another document had a quick outline of what was happening on each of those dates, and more files held even more information on city security measures, traffic reports, deals for weapons and armor, and more.

Grinning, Gavin transferred the files onto his flash drive and then yanked the small device from the computer, throwing it in his pocket. “I got it!” he said triumphantly, heading out of the office.

“Good. Ray, get lost. Gavin, find Michael,” Geoff ordered, and it sounded like he was about to continue, but he was interrupted.

“What the fuck was all that?” Michael demanded through the coms and Gavin paused in the doorway, surprised.

“Glad you could show up again, Michael,” Geoff said scathingly. “We’re talking when we – oh, fuck off, you machine-gun loving asshole – when we get back. Go get Gavin and get the fuck out of here. We’re meeting at the parking garage down the road.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Michael griped. “I’m on my way to pick up the useless idiot.” Gavin pouted again and briefly considered just leaving on his own out of spite, but he knew he wouldn’t do so well on his own if something happened. And as much as Michael seemed to hate him, Gavin still felt a little safer around him. So he stayed in place and waited.

“Hey, when you leave, can you come out through the back?” Ray asked, his voice a touch anxious. Despite Geoff’s orders to pull out, his constant sniper fire was still sounding steadily in the background. “There’s kind of a lot of dudes here, and I picked a really bad spot to camp.”

“I told you that you should’ve found a place further from the explosion,” Michael said, and now Gavin could hear him coming down the hall at a jog. He slowed in front of Gavin, scowling. “Come on, let’s go help Ray,” he said, setting off down the hall again without waiting for an answer.

Gavin sighed but followed after Michael, checking to make sure the flash drive was still securely in his pocket. At least his part of the plan had worked out well. Now all they had to do was get everyone out past a rather frightening number of guys who were actively shooting, without anyone getting killed. Gavin hoped that everyone else at least was confident in their escape.


	6. X-ray and Vav

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! Aren't you all lucky. This one isn't as action-centric, next one might not be either (I haven't written it yet), but it's all important and the next real action-sequence will be awesome. Promise. But enjoy!

“What the hell were you thinking?” Geoff raged as soon as they got back to the apartment. Ray kept his attention focused on cleaning up his leg, where shrapnel had neatly sliced a dozen little cuts. It had been Michael’s bright idea to throw a grenade at the Corpirate’s guys and make them scatter. The guys had legged it away from the explosion, and Ray had attempted to follow suit, but getting out in time would have required he jump from the top of the tree. Because he didn’t want to break something on the ground, Ray had been caught on the fringes of the blast and assaulted by little bits of rock and tree bark the grenade threw up. It stung like hell.

Michael glared but didn’t move from where he was sitting. Jack sat beside him, bandaging the cut on his arm, while Michael was icing his knee. Gavin was the only one missing. As soon as they’d gotten back to the apartment, he had hovered awkwardly around his stuff in the living room before grabbing a laptop and disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

“He was fine!” Michael shouted back. Geoff didn’t even look at him or stop his angry pacing, as if Michael had never spoken. “You just asked me to get him there in one fucking piece. And I did that! What’s your fucking problem?”

Geoff rounded on Michael, slamming his hands down on the dining room table. Ray jumped at the noise, jabbing himself with the tweezers he was using to get rid of splinters. “How can you even ask that?” he yelled. Ray scooted his chair away from the pair a little bit, resolutely trying to ignore the argument that he was sure was going to wake up the entire apartment complex. “You weren’t there to watch his fucking back, like you were supposed to! He almost got caught, and then he’d have been dead, and it would have been all your fault for wandering off!”

Michael pulled his arm away from Jack, jabbing his finger at Geoff. “He was taking too damn long!” Michael insisted. Jack jerked his arm back onto the table, holding him still with one hand while he carefully finished wrapping Michael’s cut. Michael rolled his eyes but didn’t try to pull away again. “I went to make sure there weren’t men gunning for our asses while he dicked around and took his fucking time. It’s not my fucking fault he was fucking retarded and didn’t grab what he needed and he sucks at his job. I was doing mine!”

Geoff growled, leaning forward on the table. Ray glanced up at him and immediately looked back down at his leg. Geoff looked beyond pissed. He looked like he’d be happier seeing Jack break Michael’s arm than fix it. “No, your job is whatever the hell I say it is. Your job was to watch Gavin. That was it. Next time, you do _exactly_ what I tell you to, you do _not_ block us out, and you do _not_ abandon _anyone_ , or else you are gone. Understand?” Geoff said, his voice dangerously low, which was almost scarier than him yelling.

There was no immediate answer and Ray looked up again, dropping a sliver of wood onto the dining room table among a small collection of others. Geoff and Michael were having a very intense staring contest across the dining room table. Jack was following Ray’s example and avoiding the argument, busily sorting out the first aid kit.

Finally, Michael let out a huge breath and slumped down in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from Geoff. “Fine. Got it. I’ll fucking babysit his ass next time. Happy?” he grumbled. Geoff didn’t move for a moment, simply staring Michael down, before he nodded once and pushed himself up from the table, disappearing into the kitchen.

“You almost done, Ray?” Michael griped, in a much more level tone. Ray frowned and looked down at his leg, which still had a few pieces of shrapnel stuck in it and a multitude of slowly bleeding cuts.

“Um…well, I still have open cuts all across my leg from your grenade. And I don’t think wood is supposed to be in my skin,” Ray said, gesturing at his injuries with the tweezers.

“Hurry up. I want to go home,” Michael sighed, slumping down in his chair. Ray didn’t answer, instead grabbing the first aid kit from Jack and pulling out the disinfectant.

“I think you guys should stay here tonight,” Jack said, pulling both Ray and Michael’s attention. “It’s late, you guys are hurt, and I’m sure we’re all tired. We can get you set up in one of the bedrooms for the night. Besides, it’ll probably be safer sticking around here for a bit. I’m sure the Corpirate’s gonna be pissed, and our apartment is safe.”

Scowling, Michael insisted, “We can take care of ourselves, you know. Those men were a push-over. We can handle a few more.”

Ray rolled his eyes, glancing quickly around the apartment. “Is there enough room here for all of us?” he asked. He didn’t really mind sticking around. Having a safe place for the night was always good, and he’d also wanted to talk to Gavin. But the apartment did seem rather small for five people.

“We can make room,” Jack said with a shrug. “Geoff and I have shared a room before, we can do it again. Gavin’s set up shop in the living room and he’s been sleeping on the couch. I assume you two wouldn’t mind sharing a room if you already live together. We can make it work.”

Michael looked unhappily between Jack and Ray and then let out a suffering groan. “Fine. Which room?” he asked, getting up with the bag of frozen peas he’d been using on his knee in hand.

“You can use mine. It’s down here,” Jack offered, leading Michael down the hall. Michael limped a little as he walked, his knee obviously bothering him. Ray watched them go and then turned back to cleaning up his leg. He could hear Jack and Michael talking through the coms, since no one had taken the time to remove them when they’d gotten back. It was mostly Michael complaining, much more quietly, while Jack tried to convince him that Geoff wasn’t always such an asshole.

It took just another couple minutes to finish cleaning out his cuts and patch them up, and then Ray found himself sitting alone in the dining room with nothing to occupy him. He packed up the first aid kit and stood, pulling his pant leg down gently over the cuts and scrapes on his leg, and went into the kitchen.

Geoff was still in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a bottle of whisky dangling from his hand. He’d taken his jacket off – it was lying on the counter now – and rolled his sleeves up to show off his impressive collection of tattoos. With his free hand, he was massaging his temples, and he didn’t move when Ray entered.

“Sorry about Michael,” Ray said quietly, leaning on a counter near Geoff and digging his earpiece from his ear. Michael had poor enough hearing that Ray doubted he’d pick up on the softly-spoken comment (a career around explosives and the mini gun he had at home had easily destroyed his hearing), but Ray wanted to be on the safe side. He didn’t need his friend mad at him, too.

Geoff huffed out a breath, lowering his hand and taking a drink from the whisky bottle. He followed Ray’s example and removed his earpiece, dropping it on top of his jacket. “Is he always this fucking frustrating?” he asked.

Ray smiled slightly and nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, pretty much. But you get used to it. He means well, it’s just…Michael doesn’t really know when to back down. If he thinks something needs to be done, or if he wants to change the plan on you, he’s going to do it. Yelling at him won’t change that,” he answered. “If you end up spending as much time around him as I have, you’ll get it. And you’ll be able to tell when he’s gonna go all stubborn asshole on you most of the time. Gives you a chance to prepare yourself before something explodes.”

Frowning, Geoff swirled the whisky in the bottle, took another drink, and then offered it to Ray. Ray shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t drink. Got anything else?” he asked.

“What do you mean you don’t drink?” Geoff demanded, looking a little insulted as he pulled the bottle close to his chest. “Everyone drinks. Drinking is amazing!” Ray just shook his head again, smirking, and Geoff rolled his eyes. “Fucking weird… There’s some soda in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Ray nodded his thanks and pushed himself off the counter to rummage around in their fridge. He pulled out a can of Coke and went back to his spot against the counter, watching Geoff as he popped open the can and took a sip.

Geoff was still frowning down at the ground, and he was either thinking about something or the whisky was getting to his head. A few minutes passed in silence, and Ray was about to wander off to find Gavin instead when Geoff started speaking.

“I thought this would be easier,” he muttered. Ray wasn’t positive that Geoff was even talking to him; the crew leader hadn’t looked up and seemed to be talking to himself. “Jack made expanding the crew seem like such a good idea, but instead it’s just been irritating.”

“Hey, Gavin and I haven’t been difficult,” Ray protested.

Geoff choked out a laugh, looking up at Ray. “You weren’t there when we met Gavin. He can be extraordinarily difficult for someone who can’t do much without back-up,” he scoffed. “First time we met him, he launched his motorcycle off a fucking flatbed to take out a dude’s car. But yeah, you haven’t done anything yet.”

“Gavin did that? Seriously?” Ray asked, looking around in the general direction of the bedrooms. “Damn. Not something I would have expected.” Geoff nodded, going back to the whisky. Ray waited to see if Geoff was going to offer anything else, but when another minute passed in silence, he said, “So…why are you still doing this if it’s so irritating and frustrating for you? Any other crew boss would’ve tossed us out the second Michael started being Michael. It’s happened a few times before. And I’m sure Gavin’s had his share of short-lived jobs. Why don’t you just go back to how it was, just you and Jack?”

For a moment, Geoff went back to contemplating his bottle, twisting it around in his hands. Then he set it down and planted his hands on the counter, leaning back. “Because, as pissed off as I am at everyone here, this is fucking working,” he admitted. “Jack was right. A bigger crew is helpful as dicks. We raided the Corpirate’s fucking mansion – the _Corpirate’s mansion,_ Ray. True, there were a few things that sucked ass, but we did something. And you all helped. So I’m keeping with it and hoping things with Gavin and Michael turn around.”

Ray nodded, taking a drink of his Coke. “I hope so. I like it here. It’d suck if you changed your mind just cause Michael’s a whiny child,” he said with a smile. He lifted his can to Geoff and pushed himself from the counter. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. I wanted to see Gavin before I went to bed.”

“Good luck,” Geoff said with an absent wave.

Leaving Geoff with his thoughts, Ray wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall, sipping from his soda. Three doors led off the hallway. One clearly led into a bathroom (either that or one of them thought decorating their bedroom with a toilet was a good idea), and Ray could hear Jack and Michael in the room closest to the dining room, behind a mostly closed door. He assumed Gavin was in the final room.

No sound came from the room and Ray knocked on the door gently. When there was no response, Ray pushed the door open, peering around it into the room. Gavin sat on Geoff’s bed, his laptop balanced on his knees, and his attention fully fixed on the screen. He didn’t even look up when Ray opened the door, scrolling through something intently.

Ray stepped into the room, mostly closing the door behind him. “Hey, Vav,” he greeted, and then paused, wondering if he’d actually said the right name or bumbled it. That hadn’t sounded right.

“Hey, X-ray,” Gavin said instantly without looking up from the laptop.

“X-ray?” Ray repeated in bemusement.

Gavin shrugged, looking up from the laptop with a grin. “It seemed to fit,” he said. “What’s up?” Ray hovered near the door awkwardly for a moment before going and sitting on the edge of the bed near Gavin. He wasn’t entirely sure where he and Gavin stood at the moment. Yeah, Gavin had been the reason that Ray had gotten shot and spent a couple weeks recovering in the hospital, but Ray didn’t really blame him for it. And he didn’t know what Gavin thought of him. They hadn’t really spoken much.

“I wanted to talk to you. Apologize for Michael,” Ray said, and as he said it, he realized he was making an awful lot of apologies for his friend. But he felt like someone had to, and Michael sure as hell wasn’t going to admit his mistakes yet.

Gavin frowned and slumped down, turning back to his laptop, though he was no longer doing anything on it. He was just staring at the screen, one hand resting on the keyboard motionlessly. “He hates me, doesn’t he?” he sighed, sounding like a hurt child, and Ray made a mental note to knock some sense into Michael later.

“No, I don’t think he hates you,” Ray said. Gavin looked at him skeptically. “Well, hate is a strong word. I think ‘dislike’ is better.”

Groaning, Gavin flopped backward on the bed, his laptop sliding off his knees and falling to the ground. “Why?” he moaned. “I haven’t bloody done anything to him! He’s being a right mong.”

Ray smirked. “He’s being a what?” he asked, unable to hide his laughter. Gavin just stared at him and Ray covered his mouth with a hand. “Sorry, sorry. This is serious, right. Though, uh, you did send a bounty hunter to kill us. I think he’s still a little bitter about that.”

“I said I was sorry! I didn’t know what was going to happen. This guy just found me and asked if I could give him your address. He paid me a thousand dollars just for that. I wasn’t going to say no,” Gavin insisted, flailing his arms up and letting them thump back onto Geoff’s bed. “Besides, shouldn’t you be more pissed off? You were the one who was actually shot. Far as I heard, Michael was just nearby.”

Reaching up to rub at his chest, Ray shrugged, turning on the bed so he was sitting cross-legged and could see Gavin a bit better. “Yeah, well, it’s not really your fault. For a thousand dollars, he could’ve gotten just about anyone with an internet connection and a lot of stubbornness to get him that address. You just happened to do it first,” Ray said.

“Yeah… But Michael doesn’t think so. He doesn’t even want to be around me, Ray!” Gavin complained.

“Why does it matter so much?” Ray asked. “Michael’s a fucking asshole and he knows it. You could be a complete asshole back and he wouldn’t care. Why are you beating yourself up over this?”

Gavin frowned at the ceiling, picking at a loose thread on Geoff’s comforter absently. “Because I want this to work. I don’t want to lose people. I don’t want to be on my own again. But I’ve seen what happens to crews when they don’t work together. I’ve been there.

“One crew I was hired into had a guy like Michael. He was always so angry at everything, and he thought that he was the only one with good ideas, and he tore apart everyone. He hated me, for being able to do stuff he couldn’t, and we fought a lot. One job, he was pissed at me, and shut me out. We were doing a big weapon deal. I was watching the cameras, making sure everything went to plan…” Gavin paused and bit his lip, taking a deep breath through his nose. Ray sat quietly and waited. He didn’t want to interrupt.

“The guy we were dealing with didn’t come in good faith. He brought back-up. They were waiting around the corner of the deal, with lots of guns. I tried to warn everyone, but most of them were too far out, patrolling the area. The one person I needed to warn the most, the one doing the deal, had shut off his coms so he wouldn’t hear me. I…I saw him die, Ray. I couldn’t do anything about it. I watched them gun him down, in the middle of that warehouse, and then leave him bleeding on the floor.

“Everyone else got there way too late. He was already gone by the time anyone arrived to help,” Gavin said, and his voice was tight and strained, as if he was holding back tears. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, though Ray guessed he wasn’t looking at the rough spackling pattern. “They blamed it on me. Said that if I’d done my job right, he never would have died. That if I’d been nicer, if I had cleared things up with him, that it would have been okay. I was tossed out for that. I nearly died for that when the guy we’d been dealing with came around to get rid of the rest of the crew. They all died in a big explosion. I was nearly killed in a drive-by shooting.”

Silence stretched for a moment as Gavin took a couple shaky breaths, his fists now clenched on Geoff’s blankets. Ray put a hand on his leg comfortingly, wishing there was something more he could do to help. “That’s why I’m so upset about Michael,” Gavin finally said, quietly. “I don’t want that to happen again. I…I couldn’t do that again. But it looks like that’s what’s going to happen, but this time it’ll be worse, cause we’re going against the Corpirate and not just some random guy. I couldn’t live with myself if something bad happened again because of me. I couldn’t.”

For a moment, Ray wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, he patted Gavin’s leg until the hacker pulled his eyes away from the ceiling. Ray grinned at him and said, “Don’t worry, Gavin. That’s never going to happen. I’ll beat up Michael myself if I have to in order to keep things going well. And I got your back. Okay? X-ray and Vav, beating the odds and keeping everyone alive!” He gave Gavin a double thumbs-up and Gavin snorted out a laugh, smiling slightly.

“Thanks, Ray,” he said, pushing himself up and bending down to grab his laptop from the floor. “I think I’m gonna go lay down… I need to think for a bit.” Gavin stood up, tucking his laptop under his arm, and Ray got up with him. “But really, thanks. For listening and such. We’ll make it work. Right?”

“Of course,” Ray said. “We’re not getting taken down by a sour child.” He held out a fist toward Gavin and, after a second, Gavin rapped Ray’s knuckles with his own, smiling. “See you tomorrow, Vav. Don’t keep yourself up with this. Okay?”

Gavin nodded and stepped out of the room. He had to swerve around Geoff, who was lingering in the hallway, in order to get to the living room, and he spared the crew leader a quick glance as he passed. Ray stepped out after him, looking at Geoff quizzically.

“How’s he doing?” Geoff asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder as Gavin disappeared into the living room.

Ray shrugged, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “He’s scared and worried, but I think he’ll be all right,” he answered. “He’s working through some shit.”

Geoff nodded and shifted his arm so his jacket was slung more securely over it, clapping Ray on the shoulder with his other hand. “Story of our fucking lives. Sleep well,” he said, going into his room. Ray sighed, nodded, and went to join Jack and Michael. He also had some shit to work through. Story of their lives was right.


	7. The Corpirate's Plan

By the time Jack laid down to go to sleep, he was seriously regretting his offer to share the apartment with the lads.

Faint light shone from the living room through Geoff’s bedroom door, which was cracked open. A few minutes ago, Jack had gone out to find Gavin sitting in front of his computer, though he hadn’t been doing anything. His screens had been lit and there had been files up for him to look at, but he had been staring at them blankly and spinning in his chair absently, apparently lost in thought. When Jack had called his name and insisted that Gavin go to sleep, Gavin had nodded but hadn’t made any move to actually lay down. He was apparently still awake, judging by the light.

It wasn’t the glowing light that bothered Jack. Gavin had been in their apartment for a little while now, and Jack was used to the light coming from his computer at all times of night. No, it was the fact that Ray and Michael also weren’t going to sleep.

Jack and Geoff’s rooms were separated by the width of the hallway, and even through the closed door of Jack’s room, he could hear them talking. It sounded like they were trying to keep their voices down but were rather unsuccessful. Every time one of their voices raised – more often than not it was Michael’s – the other would loudly shush them. It was happening ridiculously frequently.

Jack sighed and rolled over to put his back to the door, burrowing further in the blanket nest he’d formed next to Geoff’s bed. As far as he could tell, Geoff had fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d laid down. Jack wished he could do that.

“—not my problem,” Michael said, his voice a little muffled by the distance and the doors but still perfectly clear.

“You’re getting loud again,” Ray said, his warning slightly more audible than the last few, but his voice was admittedly a little quieter than Michael’s. “And it should be your problem. You’re a part of this crew, too.”

“That doesn’t mean his problems are mine. He should fucking suck it up and deal with it,” Michael said without lowering his voice. “I’m not shoving my shit on them.”

“Well, you’re bitter and angry because of one of your past problems that just so happened to involve Gavin, so I think you actually are shoving your shit on them,” Ray snapped. Jack frowned and pulled the blankets up over his head, pressing a hand to his ear. He just wanted to sleep.

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Michael yelled, and though Jack could hear Ray shushing him, Michael didn’t get any quieter. “That’s different. It’s not just my fucking problem, it’s yours too, and that asshole’s! He’s just bringing up shit for fucking attention or some shit.”

“You’re doing the same fucking thing!” Ray hissed, and after Michael’s very audible yelling, it was a little more difficult to hear him. “I just think you should talk to Gavin! At least say his name. You haven’t called him by name since we got here, and you’re being a fucking child about it.”

Geoff stirred in his bed, the mattress creaking as he shifted and groaned loudly. “Why?” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed and coming very close to stepping on Jack. “Shit, sorry.” His words were a little slurred with sleep and he shuffled out of the room, stumbling in the dark.

“ _I’m_ being a fucking child?” Michael raged. “I’m not the one who – oh, hi.” Jack pulled the blanket off his head, turning back to look out the door. Geoff had left it fully open and the light coming from Jack’s room overpowered Gavin’s soft blue light. Geoff himself leaned on the doorway, rubbing at his face with one hand.

“Shut the fuck up,” Geoff griped. “It’s late, I’m tired, and I will shoot you.” Ray and Michael muttered something in response and Geoff turned away, forcefully shutting the bedroom door and shuffling back to his bed. Jack heard him mutter something about being a “fucking babysitter” as he fell face-first onto his bed. Only a minute or so later, he started snoring.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows, looking up at Geoff’s bed incredulously. He had no idea how anyone managed to fall asleep that fast. After a moment, he lay back down, getting comfortable again. Ray and Michael were still talking, but their voices were just a low drone, something much easier to deal with.

It didn’t take Jack as short a time to fall asleep as Geoff, but eventually he dozed off, the computer light and buzzing conversation lulling him to sleep.

Some hours after he fell asleep, Jack was woken up by Geoff kicking him in the face.

Jack jerked awake, shouting and clutching at his jaw. “Ow! Dammit, Geoff,” he said blearily, sitting up and rubbing at his jaw. It ached, but even if a mark did form, it wouldn’t be seen beneath his beard. It was just annoying at the moment.

“Damn, sorry, dude. Didn’t know where you were,” Geoff said apologetically. He moved around Jack, grabbing his pants up from the floor. He must have only recently woken up himself, as he was still only wearing his pajama pants.

Jack scrubbed at his face, trying to get himself to wake up. “What time is it?” he muttered, glancing at the window. Soft golden light forced itself around the curtains, so he knew it was at least day. Considering the fact he hadn’t gotten to sleep until nearly dawn, that didn’t really tell him much.

“Like, eight or so?” Geoff guessed, busily getting dressed in one of his suits. Jack had suggested he get more casual clothing at some point, so he wasn’t running around the house or in the heat in a full suit, but Geoff insisted on keeping his wardrobe. He thought it made him look “cool as dicks.”

“Why are you up so early?” Jack asked with a frown. But now that he was more awake, he could hear what had probably woken Geoff – talking in the living room. It wasn’t a loud argument or conversation, but he could still hear well enough to pick out Ray’s voice.

“The lads woke up a little bit ago. Michael and Ray got into it again. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t wake up sooner,” Geoff said, kicking at the clothes on the floor in search of his bowtie.

Jack sighed, throwing blankets off and pushing himself to his feet. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, since he hadn’t thought to change before giving up his room to Ray and Michael. “It’s like taking care of children,” he muttered, leaving Geoff to get dressed and stepping out of the room.

His bedroom door was still closed and Jack suspected Michael was probably sulking inside, since the conversation in the living room was so quiet. Ray and Gavin sat in the living room. Gavin was in his rolling chair at his computer, the screens lit behind him, and Ray lounged on the couch. More cans of Red Bull sat on the desk than Jack remembered from the night before, and Gavin had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept.

“Seriously, dude, you’re gonna pass out,” Ray insisted, and it sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d said it that morning.

“I’m fine,” Gavin muttered, rubbing at his eyes with his palms.

“Morning,” Jack said as he stepped up behind the couch. Ray jumped and sat up, spinning around, while Gavin just looked up blearily. “What are you guys doing up so early?”

Ray shrugged, settling back onto the couch. “Michael kept moving around and I couldn’t sleep well. Gavin hasn’t slept yet,” he said, frowning at Gavin.

“I was working,” Gavin protested, pointing back at the monitors. Jack followed his hand to the monitors. As far as he could tell, not much had changed on them between now and when Jack had gone to bed. The same YouTube video was even still paused in the upper right hand corner.

“On what?” Jack asked. “I thought you got unencrypted files. All you have to do is read them, right?”

“There were a lot of files, Jack,” Gavin snapped. “I had to read through all of this bloody stuff to find what I needed. It took a while.” Jack lifted his hands in a placating gesture and Ray looked at him over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow, his eyes darting over to Gavin questioningly.

“So…did you find anything?” Jack asked, making a mental note to talk to Gavin later about his excessive drinking of Red Bull. It was clearly screwing with his sleep schedule and, through that, his attitude.

Gavin nodded, turning away from the two of them and looking at the screens. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it all,” he said.

“Got all of what?” Geoff asked, coming up behind Jack. He was still messing with his bowtie, attempting to tie it nicely without the aid of a mirror. His mustache drooped a little sadly, since he hadn’t gone to fix it yet.

“The Corpirate’s plans. I figured it out,” Gavin said.

“Awesome!” Geoff cried, grinning widely. “Let’s get something to eat, wake up a bit, and then we’ll look at what you found.” He looked at Gavin critically and added, “And maybe you should take a nap first.”

Gavin huffed, not turning back around. “I’ll sleep later. I’m fine,” he griped.

Geoff stared at him and then shrugged, going into the kitchen. After a second, Ray sighed and got up, following his lead.

About an hour later, the crew gathered in the living room again. Ray had had to wake up Michael and drag him out of the bedroom, which had been a lot easier than Jack had expected. Michael leaned quietly on the back of the couch, nibbling on one of the donuts Geoff had picked up from the store down the road. He still looked half-asleep, his T-shirt rumpled and one pant leg rolled up a little bit.

“Okay, Gav,” Geoff said, setting a donut down on the hacker’s desk and falling back to lounge on the couch with Ray. Jack perched on the arm of the couch, licking chocolate icing off his fingers. “What did you get?”

Gavin grabbed the donut, took a bite, and fiddled with his computer until one of the files expanded to take up most of the screens. “This is the basic information. There’s loads more, but it’s all details and stuff. But pretty much, it’s heists. It’s a lot of high-risk heists.”

Geoff frowned, leaning in to look at the screens. “So those dates are when he’s planning to do this, then?” he asked. “Wait, I know that bank!” He pointed to the top line of text, beneath the first date.

“You probably know the other places, too. It’s all in our territory,” Gavin said, pointing to the next two locations on the list. Jack got up and moved closer so he could see easier. The bank Geoff noticed was only a few blocks away. They’d hit it once before, a year or so back, and no one else had attempted since then. The second was actually their own weapon storage shed, close to the apartment. Most of their more illegal possessions were kept there, on the off chance the apartment was searched, and Jack hadn’t thought anyone knew about it. The last place wasn’t actually under their control, but no one was stupid enough to hit it – the military base.

“What the fuck?” Geoff said, scowling. “He’s trying to take over our shit! But you know what, we’re gonna get there first. He’s not kicking us out.” He looked around at the others and Jack frowned, pointing to the second location.

“That sounds good and all, but how are we stealing from ourselves?” Jack asked.

Ray looked between Jack and Geoff, one eyebrow raised. “What do you mean? What is that place?” he asked.

“It’s a storage complex. We keep a lot of our stuff there, in the sheds he’s noted down,” Jack explained. “A lot of our guns, explosives, and vehicles are kept there, and drug-runners use them as temporary storage when they need to.”

“So we just gotta move it all, right?” Michael said, speaking up for the first time since he’d woken up, besides a few incoherent grunts. “Not hard.”

“Assuming we’re not being watched and he isn’t just planning to take it from us when we move it,” Jack pointed out.

Geoff waved his hand at them dismissively, still looking at Gavin’s monitors. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out later. It’s this first one we need to look at. The heist is planned to go down in a little over a week, so we have that much time to figure out how to beat him to it.”

Grinning, Geoff turned to face the others, clapping his hands together. “Alright, boys! Let’s plan a heist.”


	8. The Vagabond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering when Ryan's coming in...I give you his introduction!

“Are you sure you know how to fly this thing?” Geoff asked, clutching his seat with one hand and the door with the other. The helicopter bounced and shuddered, alternating between dipping scarily low and then shooting back up. It would have been nerve-wracking over empty fields or open water, but it was worse traveling through the city.

“Well, I’ve never really flown a real chopper before, but it works a lot like flight simulators,” Gavin answered cheerfully, apparently oblivious to his erratic flight pattern.

Geoff nodded, took a shaky breath, and asked, “And how do those simulations usually end?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he felt like he should know how much danger he’d put himself in with this plan.

“I’ve gotten better,” Gavin insisted. “I only crash sometimes.” Michael laughed, the sound coming across as scornful through the coms.

Geoff gulped and made sure his harness was securely fastened. “Why did I let you talk me into this again?”

“Because nothing else made sense?” Jack suggested through the earpiece. Geoff could hear the heavier propeller beats of the cargobob Jack was flying, a steady background noise that mixed with the quicker beats of his own, smaller chopper. “No one else can fly a cargobob and you, Michael, and Ray can’t fly at all, but you still wanted a second chopper. You really didn’t leave yourself much choice.”

“I hate it when you make sense,” Geoff sighed. “Gavin, building!”

Gavin squawked and pulled at the controls. The helicopter dipped sideways in a hard turn, the harness biting into Geoff’s shoulder. Geoff’s knuckles turned white where he gripped his makeshift handles and he was pretty sure the chopper’s tail busted a window as they whipped around. They managed to brush past the building without any lasting damage and Gavin righted the chopper, returning to his normal flight pattern.

“Sorry!” Gavin said, flashing Geoff a quick smile. “That was pretty top, though! Did you see how close we got?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was kind of hard to miss,” Geoff said, slowly prying his fingers from his handholds.

“You’d think it’d be pretty easy to miss a building,” Ray said dryly.

“There was no explosion,” Michael sighed.

Frowning, Geoff huffed, “Don’t sound so disappointed. If I die, you’re all fucked. Has anyone caught sight of the truck yet?”

“No, but it’s not scheduled to leave the bank for another couple minutes. We’ve got time,” Jack said.

“Not much. We need eyes on it ASAP. The Corpirate’s ambush is taking place only a mile or so away. We need to be quick,” Geoff said, his stomach twisting itself into knots as the helicopter dropped alarmingly. “I also don’t know if we’ll be in the air much longer…”

“I got it now. We’re fine,” Gavin pouted.

“Less complaining, more flying,” Geoff ordered. He didn’t want to die in a fiery explosion because Gavin was too busy bitching. It was his hope that, if Gavin was focused on just flying, they’d make it out in one piece.

“Hey, Geoff. We see the truck,” Michael reported. “It’s parked behind the bank.”

“There’s the driver,” Ray added. “I think he’s about to leave. Hope you’re ready, Jack.”

“I’m in position. Gavin, you good to – _holy shit,_ ” Jack cried, his shout mixing with Geoff’s as Gavin took a sharp turn around the building and came upon the cargobob. The landing skids scraped against the top of the giant helicopter and Gavin yelped. “What the hell? You knew I was here! How’d you even manage that?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Gavin said, but his apology was laced with restrained laughter. “Everything looks different from up here. Though I just thought, wouldn’t it be cool if I landed on the cargobob?”

“Oh, god. They’re all gonna die up there,” Ray moaned.

“Dammit, no one here is dying!” Geoff yelled. “Gavin, get away from the cargobob. Jack, keep your eyes peeled. Ray, Michael, are you two in position?”

“Yep, we’re here,” Michael assured.

“Though I don’t know if it’s a good idea to be sitting down here. I’m afraid Gavin’s gonna crush us,” Ray said nervously.

“If he crushes us and we die, I’m haunting his ass,” Michael declared.

Giggling, Gavin asked, “Just my ass, Michael? That’d be kind of weird.” Jack and Ray laughed, but Geoff just sighed, rubbing at his head.

“Focus!” he said, leaning to the side to look out the window. Gavin had moved far enough away from Jack that there was no immediate threat of an explosive death, and Geoff could see Michael’s chrome car on the road below. Other cars went along the road, honking angrily at the car sitting in their way. Among the traffic, Geoff could see the white armored truck turning around a corner from the bank, only a couple blocks away. It only took the truck a moment to realize there was a problem up ahead – the cargobob hovering above the road was kind of a tip-off – and it started to slow on the road.

It was a little difficult to keep an eye out with the chopper bouncing as it was, but Geoff looked back down to the chrome car. He could see Ray climb out of the passenger window and perch on the edge like a seat, leveling his pink sniper rifle on the top of the car. The other cars directly in front of him swerved suddenly to get away from the barrel of the gun, and at least one crash was caused by the quickly moving traffic. Geoff didn’t really bother to watch out for any others, too caught up in his plan.

A shot rang out, inaudible from the height of the helicopter but perfectly clear through the coms. Two more shots cracked through Geoff’s earpiece, and further down the road, the armored truck rolled to a stop. People near Michael’s car stopped their vehicles and got out, running away from the area.

“Did you get him, Ray?” Geoff asked, watching the sharpshooter slide back into the car through the window.

“Got him. You might want to hurry up, Jack. The Corpirate’s gonna know something’s up soon with all these people around, and the cops’ll probably be showing up,” Ray said. Before he had even finished speaking, the cargobob was moving down the road. A giant magnet, suspended beneath the helicopter by a thick, braided cord, swung precariously as the cargobob moved.

“Gavin, stay close enough that I can shoot but don’t fucking crash,” Geoff ordered. “Michael, I’ll see you two at the rendezvous point. Don’t get got.”

“See you there,” Michael said, and the car pulled away, forcing its way between other vehicles in order to speed down the road. Gavin turned the chopper to follow Jack as Jack took the cargobob over the armored truck. He maneuvered it carefully, lining up the magnet over the top of the truck. The magnet connected and Geoff imagined a dull thunk at the collision.

“I got it!” Jack called triumphantly, gently rising up in the cargobob. The line snapped taut, then the truck lifted off the ground, swinging beneath the helicopter. “Shit, this is heavy. I’m not moving as fast anymore.”

Geoff unbuckled his harness, heart rising to his throat at the thought of being in a helicopter flown by Gavin without any kind of safety gear, so far off the ground. But he stepped away from his seat and into the back of the chopper. With a little bit of effort, Geoff pulled open one of the sliding doors at the back, and the chopper was filled with howling wind.

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ve got you covered. Gavin, make sure anyone I have to shoot is on the right hand side,” Geoff said, grabbing a large automatic weapon from a rack next to the door. Flashing lights appeared down the road, and Geoff could just faintly hear the wailing police sirens. “Shit, we stuck around too long. Go, go, go!”

Jack lifted the truck up above the level of the street lights and started down the road. The giant magnet was a first for them; they didn’t know how long it would keep hold of the heavy truck, and with the cops right there, it was best to just get moving. The buildings would hamper Jack’s movement, but it was better than going up too high and knocking the truck off by hitting a stray bit of concrete or antenna.

Most of the cop cars halted behind the other stopped vehicles, and two continued down the road in the direction Michael and Ray had gone. Some of the cops hopped out of their cars, leveling guns up at the cargobob.

Geoff sighted down his automatic, toward the cops. He didn’t exactly want to kill any of them, not unless they made a move to kill any of his own, but he sure as hell didn’t want them shooting the truck down. He squeezed the trigger and rapid gunfire exploded in the enclosed space, deafening him. Windows of the cop cars exploded and a couple men dropped with inaudible shouts. The cops ducked behind whatever cover they could find at the gunfire.

Grinning, Geoff kept up the gunfire, shooting in short bursts each time one of the cops decided to get up and attempt to shoot back. Suddenly, the helicopter spun around, and Geoff was no longer able to easily see the cop cars.

“Gavin, keep them on the right!” Geoff yelled, grabbing at the edge of the door to keep himself from falling out as he leaned forward in an attempt to see the cops again.

“How? We’re moving away from them! I can’t fly sideways!” Gavin shouted, and still his voice was quiet and distant through the earpiece, behind the rushing wind and Geoff’s ears ringing from the automatic.

Geoff leaned forward as far as he dared and could just make out the cops on the road behind them. Bullets pinged against the helicopter and Geoff fell back inside, on the off chance one of the cops got lucky and sent a bullet flying inside.

With a grunt of effort, Geoff pulled the sliding door closed again, and the background noises disappeared. “Jack, how are you doing?” he asked, remaining crouched by the door.

“They’re shooting me, but I think I’m getting out of range. We’re almost at the rendezvous,” Jack reported. Geoff glanced out the front windshield of the chopper and saw the cargobob making its way slowly through the buildings, the truck still dangling beneath it.

“Great. Ray, Michael, are you two there yet?” Geoff asked.

“Uh, no. Not quite,” Ray said, and now that Geoff could hear better, he could hear more gunfire coming through the coms. “Traffic light!”

“I got it,” Michael snapped. “Get those assholes!”

Geoff scooted around to sit between the front seats in the helicopter, staring out the windshield and watching Jack start to lower the truck into an empty lot. The gunfire from the police had stopped for the time being, but Geoff didn’t think they’d have long before the cops were on them again.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Geoff demanded, trying to catch sight of the chrome car.

“The Corpirate’s guys were keeping an eye on the place. They’re not too happy,” Ray said. “And we got cops.”

“Fuck this, I’m going on the sidewalk,” Michael growled. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Well hurry up. You’ve got our explosives, and the cops are on our fucking tails,” Geoff barked. Jack set the truck down in the lot and it was released from the magnet, settling heavily on its wheels. “Gavin, please don’t crash.”

Gavin didn’t answer and the chopper bobbed and dropped its way down to the ground. They landed heavily and Geoff would have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding onto the seats. As soon as the chopper was settled on the ground, Geoff pulled open the door and hopped out, taking his automatic with him. “Jack, do you have somewhere to land? We should ditch the cargobob. It’s too big a target.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Jack answered. Geoff nodded, leaving him to abandon the cargobob. He didn’t really worry too much about Jack landing; Jack could fly or drive anything with an engine remarkably well, and Geoff hadn’t seen him come nearly as close to crashing as Gavin had.

The armored truck sat innocently in the lot, its windshield a spider web of cracks with a single hole punched through the tough glass. The driver was still slumped in his seat, held in place by his seatbelt, a trail of blood running from a bullet hole in his head. Ray really was pretty good at what he did.

The back of the truck was locked up tight. Geoff shook the doors and the locks rattled, but the doors barely moved. He knew they were thick, heavy metal, and it would be impossible to force them open. “Michael, we need you!” Geoff yelled, pounding his hand against the door in frustration. He could hear sirens in the distance, and he thought they were getting closer.

“Little busy here, Geoff. We needed to take a detour,” Michael said, and Geoff could still hear their gunfire through the coms.

“ETA two minutes,” Ray added.

Geoff growled, spinning around and running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know if they had two minutes, not if the cops were so close. And it would be too easy for the cops to destroy the helicopter while it was sitting uselessly on the ground.

“I got the cargobob down,” Jack reported. As he spoke, Geoff heard an engine revving close by and rapidly getting closer. He leveled his gun at the road behind them, ready to pull the trigger, as a motorcycle shot around the corner.

Geoff paused, a little surprised. He’d expected a cop car or something similar, not some dude on a motorcycle.

The driver lifted a gun, pointed toward Geoff, and Geoff dived sideways with a shout. The gun went off in two loud bursts, and the locks on the truck exploded. Geoff got up slowly as the motorcycle skidded to a halt in front of him.

Geoff looked up at the driver and froze, eyes wide. He was tall, wearing jeans and a black and blue leather jacket. But what really caught Geoff’s attention was the mask he wore. A black skull grinned at Geoff, behind which he could see a pair of eyes. No skin showed on the other side of the mask, and when the driver blinked, the entire eye sockets of the mask flashed pure black.

That mask, and the man behind it, was the source of many stories. Stories of the elusive Vagabond, the mad mercenary. By all accounts, he had a love for violence and murder, while still maintaining his anonymity and security. He’d never been caught by the cops, and he only worked with other people for a very short amount of time before moving on. There were reports of him all around the country and very little actual proof of his existence. He was like a ghost, a phantom, who lived only in stories and whispers. And he was standing right in front of Geoff with a gun held comfortably in his hand.

“If you don’t empty out that truck, I will,” the Vagabond said, his deep voice faintly muffled by the mask.

“Geoff, the cops are coming!” Gavin yelled, leaning out of the helicopter. He looked at the Vagabond, paused, and then grinned like an excited child on Christmas. “Holy shit,” he said.

Geoff shook himself and pulled his eyes away from the creepy black mask. “Gavin, get over here and help! Ray, Michael, change of plans. Lose your tails and meet back at the apartment. Jack, you’re flying the chopper out of here,” Geoff ordered, pulling the truck doors open. Bags and locked boxes had once been stacked in the back of the truck, but they now lay scattered in the small space, knocked loose by the violent swinging while in the air. “And you,” Geoff added, glancing at the Vagabond over his shoulder. “Uh…thanks.”

“Well no one else was doing anything,” the Vagabond answered, turning to watch as Gavin ran over. Gavin paused next to the Vagabond, still grinning as he stared at the mask. He lifted a hand to touch it and the Vagabond grabbed his wrist before he could. “Don’t touch.”

Geoff would’ve been freaked out after being grabbed by the Vagabond, but Gavin seemed unperturbed, simply nodding once and pulling his hand back without his grin fading. “Gavin, you can fanboy later. Get your ass over here. This shit is heavy as dicks,” Geoff said, grabbing a couple of the boxes and shoving them in Gavin’s arms when he ran over. Gavin stumbled under the weight, got his feet under him, and hurried back to the chopper.

“I’ll help,” the Vagabond offered, stepping up, putting away his gun, and holding his hands out. Geoff hesitated, unsure whether or not to trust the mad mercenary. He saw the Vagabond roll his eyes behind the mask. “If I was gonna take it for myself, I would’ve shot you two first. I want to help.”

Geoff let out a breath and then passed over a few bags. “Fine. Throw them in the chopper,” he said. The Vagabond took the bags with minimal effort and followed after Gavin. “Jack, where are you?”

“Right here,” Jack answered, stepping up to the back of the truck. “Geoff, what’s he doing here?”

Sighing, Geoff shrugged and pressed a couple boxes into Jack’s arms. “I have no fucking clue. I’m just not questioning it right now. Let’s get this loaded up and go,” he said, grabbing a couple bags himself and hopping out of the back.

The sirens were definitely getting louder now and Geoff’s head snapped around. “Shit, we gotta go. Jack, you fly! Gavin, cover the left, I got the right,” he said, running over to the chopper and tossing his bags in and then clambering in himself.

“I can keep them off you,” the Vagabond offered, stepping away from the chopper as Jack climbed into the driver’s seat. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning and going back to his bike. The engine started with a growl and he peeled away, back toward the sound of the cop cars, pulling his gun out as he went.

“That was weird,” Jack said, lifting the helicopter from the ground.

“Yeah, it was. But let’s just let him do what he wants. I don’t want to tell him otherwise,” Geoff said, grabbing the doorway as Jack moved away from the lot. “Okay, boys. Let’s ditch our tails and get back home.”


	9. Fake AH Crew

“Let’s ditch our tails and get back home,” Geoff’s voice buzzed in Michael’s earpiece, the sharp thrum of helicopter blades cutting through the air making its way through the coms. Michael didn’t answer, a little too concerned with getting away from the four cars behind him.

It used to be six, but Michael had lost one of the cops and one of the Corpirate’s cars. One cop couldn’t make a turn and had skidded off the road into a ditch. The other car had dropped away when Ray shot the people inside. He’d since killed a few of the passengers of the other vehicles, but none of the other drivers.

One of the cars in the back was soon to go, two tires blown and sparks flying up from the rims scraping against the road. Another car was missing its windows, and the driver was keeping them even with Michael’s car.

Ray was barely in the car anymore, instead kneeling on his seat and leaning with his top half out the window. His sniper rifle had been tossed in the back seat and he held his automatic pistol in his hand. The glove box sat open, holding his extra ammunition. Michael himself had his pistol ready in one hand and drove with the other.

The car with the missing windows pulled alongside Michael’s car and the driver leveled a small automatic at Ray. The sharpshooter got the first shot off and the other driver went limp. The passenger at his side grabbed desperately at the wheel as the car lurched sideways, bouncing onto the curb.

The roads were filled with angry and frightened drivers who moved hastily out of Michael’s way as he charged down the wrong lane. The police car following behind may have helped, but the guns were certainly doing something to repel them.

Another gunshot cracked from behind them and the back window shattered, glass flying through the back seat. The bullet shot through the car and lodged itself in the windshield, a fine spider web of cracks spreading from the impact. In an instant, Michael could no longer see and he swore, rolling his window down and hanging out to get a look at the road. Driving was a little more difficult now, and he was presenting a very fine target to the cars behind him, but at least he could see.

Michael jerked the car sideways, crashing over a curb and onto the sidewalk as he avoided the thick pole of a traffic light, nearly running headlong into a man walking around the corner. He drove on the sidewalk for a short distance and his side view mirror snapped off when he got a little too close to the edge of a building. But a loud crash from behind him told him another one of his pursuers had dropped away. The police sirens still blared, however, so it wasn’t them.

“The car in the back is gone,” Ray reported, firing behind them. “Dammit, stupid cops swerved. Stop moving!” Michael wasn’t sure who he was yelling at, but he was sure he wasn’t doing much to help. Their car bounced back onto the road, nearly slamming into the rear end of a car parked by the curb, before he was taking off down the wrong lane again.

“Oh, fuck!” Ray cried, tumbling back into the car and banging his head against the opening of the window. “I think I really pissed off the cops.” Before this point, the police had been holding their fire, for some reason Michael didn’t fully understand. Maybe they were worried about shooting other people or some shit, but it was the first time he’d seen cops hold back. But him and Ray had apparently tried their patience because more bullets peppered their car than before.

Michael charged through a red light, swerving through the people who slammed on their brakes at his approach. At the next intersection, another vehicle seemed to be in the same predicament as Michael, much to his surprise. A motorcycle shot through the intersection, and the driver threw something over his shoulder as he went, three police cars hot on his tail.

Swearing, Michael forced himself up onto the sidewalk again to avoid the cop cars, and as he did, the center of the intersection was blown apart by an explosion.

Michael’s car rocked on its wheels, the ground shaking beneath him, and pieces of asphalt slammed into the vehicle. One smacked Michael on the head and another broke his already damaged windshield, shattering the cracked glass inward. Ray and Michael both shouted, and then a flaming police car landed on the sidewalk in front of them.

Michael swore, slammed on the brakes, and wrenched the wheel around. He skidded, smoke rising from his back wheels, and changed directions right before he ran into the flaming car. Now he could see the hole in the center of the intersection, the traffic light that had fallen into the road, the cars that had been damaged. The cops that had been pursuing the motorcycle were gone. Another was flaming, and one littered the ground in pieces, completely obliterated by the blast. Civilian vehicles were likewise damaged, and people ran and screamed and shouted.

Michael shot off in the direction the motorcycle had gone, and Ray leaned back out of the window hesitantly. “Only two cars left, Michael,” he said, bringing his pistol to bear and firing. “Just the cops left now. And they fell behind a bit.”

Nodding, Michael didn’t answer, instead working on trying to lose the cops. He swerved and turned suddenly down random roads, not entirely sure where he was headed, until the sound of the pursuing sirens grew more distant. Finally, he slowed the car and pulled calmly into a parking garage to make sure they were in the clear.

“The cops are gone,” Michael reported, touching the earpiece. He hadn’t been paying much attention to what was going on on the other end, considering he’d had his own problems to deal with, but now he could hear them holding a conversation that he felt was missing something.

“Why?” Geoff asked, and Michael was pretty sure it wasn’t in response to his statement. Geoff could be a little ridiculous sometimes, but that was pushing it.

“I don’t know…” Jack said a moment later, and Michael and Ray traded confused glances.

“Well I think it’s a good idea! We could always use help, right? And he’s pretty good, too!” Gavin insisted energetically.

“He’s also a little unstable. I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” Geoff said, his voice much quieter now, but with Gavin’s technical upgrades on the earpieces, the quietest mutterings could be picked up quite clearly.

“Is there something we should know?” Ray asked loudly and pointedly, while Michael triple checked to make sure the cop hadn’t come up on them again.

It was quiet over the coms for a moment, then Geoff said, “I’m changing the plan again. You two get over to the bottom of that overpass Gavin jumped from the other day. We’ll meet you there.”

“Will you make up your fucking mind. First we’re meeting you where you drop the truck, then the apartment, and now some giant drainage ditch,” Michael griped, reversing the car and hoping the extensive damage wouldn’t draw too much unwanted attention.

Geoff scoffed. “We’re meeting under the overpass,” he said with a finality that Michael hoped meant that he really was done changing things up. “We need to figure some shit out.”

“That sounds promising,” Ray snorted as Michael very calmly left the parking garage, paying the minimal fee from his short stay and pulling out onto the road. The overpass in question wasn’t very far, which was good, because he was sure that explosion had caused an influx in police presence over the past few minutes, and he didn’t want to run into any of them. He was pretty sure his poor car would be easy to recognize.

The drainage ditch didn’t exactly have car access, so Michael parked along the top edge. He got out and looked at his car sadly. Two windows were out, one side view mirror was missing, glass covered every surface inside the car (and a few small pieces had cut up his arms and face), and bullet holes had punched through the back bumper and trunk until Michael feared whole sections of the metal would fall off. One of the tires was flat, and he hadn’t even noticed, though it did explain why his car had felt a little uneven and bumpy on the way over.

“Whose motorcycle is that?” Ray asked, and Michael looked around to where he was standing. Ray had stepped out of the car, slinging his sniper rifle across his shoulder by its strap, and was looking off to the side. A large, plain van sat parked up against the rising concrete wall of the overpass, just across the chain link fence from the busy highway. Gavin sat on the hood of the van, staring off into space with his hand supporting his chin and a frown on his face. Beside the van was parked a black motorcycle, similar to the one that had crossed Michael’s path only a few minutes before.

“I dunno,” Michael said with a shrug, tucking his pistol into his jacket pocket.

Ray looked at it curiously and stepped up to Gavin, poking the hacker in the arm. “Hey, Vav,” he greeted, and Michael stared at them with one eyebrow arched. Who the fuck was Vav? “Why are you up here alone?”

Gavin looked around at Ray with a petulant pout and the most fucking pathetic look in his eyes. “I have to watch all the stuff while everyone’s down there,” he said glumly. Michael snorted and rolled his eyes. They’d just pulled off a huge fucking heist, of course someone needed to watch their shit. Besides, he at least didn’t want to leave a van full of money and his broken car lying around unsupervised where anyone could run off with it.

“Right,” Geoff said impatiently through the earpieces, and Gavin and Ray looked around toward the overpass as if they heard something else. Michael hadn’t caught anything else himself, but then he’d also had to mess with the volume on his coms for ages before he could hear anything properly. “Now would you two please get down here? I want to wrap this up and go home.”

Ray smiled at Gavin encouragingly, getting little more than a weak smile and a muttered “Bye, X-ray.” Michael started heading down without waiting for his friend. He wasn’t sticking around to hear Ray trading weird little nicknames with his new best friend. Ignoring the fact that he’d be able to hear it anyway because of the coms.

The drainage ditch was a little steep, and Michael ended up just sliding down it with his arms out like he was surfing. Ray slid down behind him, sitting on his butt as if it were a slide at a playground. He hopped up when he reached the bottom, dusted off the seat of his pants, and made sure his sniper rifle was okay before stepping beneath the overpass with everyone else.

Geoff and Jack were directly beneath the overpass, in the center of the ditch. Both of them were guarded and appeared a little on edge, standing with crossed arms and wary expressions as they regarded the other man with them.

Michael froze when his eyes met the dark holes and leering grin of the black skull mask. He didn’t realize they were meeting up with the fucking Vagabond, one of the most legendary and feared mercenaries to pass through Achievement City.

“What’s this asshole doing here?” he asked before his brain had even processed the words. He’d had a long, hard day, nearly getting blown up (apparently by _the Vagabond_ no less) and witnessing the death and destruction of his poor vehicle. So he was a little testy, sue him.

“Michael…” Geoff warned quietly, his voice buzzing in Michael’s ear, and both Ray and Jack watched the Vagabond warily. But to their surprise, the Vagabond threw back his head and laughed. The sound was muffled faintly by the mask, but it sounded much lighter and more cheerful than Michael thought the mad mercenary had any right sounding. With his reputation, Michael had expected him to have an evil villain laugh. Or to never laugh at all.

“This asshole is here to help,” he said, his voice touched with mild amusement. “I’ve already done more than the two of you.”

Michael scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Ray’s cautioning hand on his arm. He was tired and annoyed and the Vagabond’s fucking smug voice wasn’t helping. Michael didn’t mind picking a fight. “Yeah, you did so fucking much,” he snapped. “You didn’t have to lead every asshole with a gun on a chase through the entire fucking city, and you nearly blew us the fuck up with that damn explosion.”

The Vagabond was silent for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side, and then he shrugged. “No,” he said, his voice suddenly devoid of emotion. It was flat, cool, and gave Michael the chills. “I only went a couple of blocks. And then I destroyed the cars and killed the cops that were on my tail. I got rid of your problem in two minutes. It took you nearly three times as long.”

Glowering, Michael’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, and Ray grabbed at his jacket. Michael took the hint and didn’t try to punch that stupid mask off the Vagabond’s no-doubt judgmental face. It took a lot of effort not to, but Michael managed well enough. And people said he had problems with impulse control.

“Why would you want to help us? I’m sure you do well enough on your own,” Ray asked, and Michael felt like this conversation was going very similarly to the one they’d had with Geoff and Jack when they were being recruited into the crew.

The Vagabond shoved his hands in the pockets of his black and blue biking jacket, settling back on his heels. “Like I told the rest of your crew,” he said, nodding to Jack and Geoff. “We’re after the same thing. It’s been pretty clear you all have it out for the Corpirate, and I have a few quarrels with him myself. It’s better to join forces than be fighting each other the whole way. Or I can work my own agenda against you. You just might not like the outcome.”

There was a brief, tense silence, interrupted hastily by Jack as the Vagabond turned his creepy gaze toward each of them in turn. “As much as that may make sense, how do we know that we can trust you?” he asked.

“Yeah. With your reputation, it wouldn’t be too farfetched to assume we could wake up one morning with our throats cut. Or worse,” Geoff chimed in.

“I don’t think you’d wake up from that,” the Vagabond stated dryly. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and lifted it in the air, like a Boy Scout making an oath. “But I swear that, if you accept my help, I will not harm you or any of the crew. Intentionally. If someone drives through my explosion or jumps in front of my gun, I can’t be blamed for that.”

Geoff looked around at each of his crew members, eyebrow raised skeptically. “I don’t know…” he started slowly, but he was interrupted by Gavin’s voice through the coms.

“I think we should get his help,” Gavin said and Geoff frowned, looking back in the general direction where he had left the van and Gavin.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice crystal clear in Michael’s ear. “You know what kind of a guy we’re dealing with here, right? Why would you want him anywhere near us? Aren’t you worried about him?” Geoff sounded almost concerned, turning his back on the Vagabond and taking a couple steps away to continue his conversation a little more privately. At least where the Vagabond was concerned.

“I’m not really worried,” Gavin said slowly, as if he were considering what he was saying. “If he wanted to kill us, he would have already done it, right? Everything I’ve found on the guy says he’s not very good at quiet and subtle. He could’ve blown up our chopper, or shot us when he found us, or purposefully blown up Michael and Ray. But he didn’t.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Geoff said dryly.

“It is if you realize that, if he’s working with us, that won’t happen. Ever. Did you know that every crew he’s ever worked with has given him nothing but good remarks?” Gavin chimed in. “Yeah, he’s kinda weird and creepy and apparently really likes killing people – and I mean like _really likes it_ – and that’s not really normal, but he’s never hurt a crew he’s worked with. But if we tell him no, we might end up fighting, and I don’t like the odds.”

The coms were silent for a moment as Geoff stood there, stroking his mustache in consideration. Ray let go of Michael’s jacket, tucking his hands in his pockets, and the two of them watched the Vagabond curiously while Jack kept an eye on their crew leader. The Vagabond appeared to be unfazed by the quiet conversation, but it was difficult to tell with the mask. But his hands were tucked back in his pockets casually and he was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, strangely similar to a bored child, so that had to be a good sign. Right?

Finally, Geoff turned back around with a heavy sigh, combing his fingers through his hair. “Fine. We’ll give it a test run,” he stated, locking eyes with the skull. “But if you start in on anything I don’t like, I’m taking you down myself.”

Michael could hear the smile in the Vagabond’s voice as he replied, “Sounds like fun. So, what are we doing first?”


	10. Naming the Vagabond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone, for your support! This story's getting away from me a little bit (by my planning, I should've been at the halfway point by now), but I'm enjoying writing it, and I'm glad you all enjoy reading it!

“Oh, come on…” Gavin whined, dragging the word out pitifully and bouncing in his chair. His eyes burned with exhaustion and his head ached, but the large can of Red Bull in his system was giving him a sudden burst of energy. Energy he needed to keep his search going.

The Vagabond ignored him, meticulously cleaning his weapon as if Gavin had never spoken. It wasn’t exactly much different from how he’d been acting the past couple days, but it was getting annoying.

After Geoff decided to let the Vagabond join them for this mission, Geoff had insisted he stay with the rest of the crew at the apartment. Gavin was pretty sure it was so they could keep an eye on him, but the Vagabond hadn’t seemed to mind, and had accepted the offer easily. Over the past two days, he’d made himself at home. He slept on the couch (with his mask on, which Gavin found a little weird), and an arsenal Gavin hadn’t thought could ever fit on a motorcycle had ended up in the dining room.

For the most part, the Vagabond had kept to himself in the dining room. No one had really attempted to strike up a conversation with him, except Gavin. Though his attempts to get to know the Vagabond were kind of failing.

Ray looked away from his pink DS, propping himself up on his elbows so he could see the Vagabond over the back of the couch. He’d been hanging around Gavin for a majority of the time since they’d returned from the heist, and he claimed to be helping with the search. In reality, he sprawled on the couch and played Pokemon, but Gavin enjoyed his company all the same. At least he’d talk.

“Just give him a hint already. He won’t stop complaining until you say something,” Ray said. Finally, the Vagabond looked up from an automatic rifle, eyes moving between Ray and Gavin behind his mask. Gavin grinned as winningly as he knew how, in the hopes it might help.

The Vagabond snorted and shook his head. “Fine,” he said, and Gavin wasn’t sure if his mildly annoyed tone was real or not. “You looked at my record at least once since I’ve woken up today.” That said, he turned back to cleaning the gun that had been dismembered and now lay in pieces on a towel, as if he hadn’t even spoken.

Gavin groaned and turned back to his computer. He had decided that, if the Vagabond was going to be staying in the crew, they should know his real name. But because the Vagabond refused to give out his name (“What’s wrong with my nickname? No one else has a problem using it.”), Gavin had taken it upon himself to figure it out. He figured that someone like the Vagabond would likely have some kind of criminal record, even if it wasn’t necessarily under that pseudonym.

And apparently he was right. Even though he had already looked through nearly eighty different police records since the Vagabond had woken up around six that morning. But at least it narrowed it down a little bit. ACPD had a very extensive collection of arrest records.

It took Gavin a little bit to collect the files he’d already looked at that day, but by the end he had seventy-three records to look at again. He huffed and pulled up the first one, going through it a little more carefully this time. He heard the Vagabond hum thoughtfully behind him and Gavin glanced over his shoulder. The mad mercenary was watching him and the screens, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind that mask of his.

Gavin spent the rest of the day taking a closer look at all the files he’d pulled together. Sometimes Ray looked away from his DS long enough to make fun of something on the screen (“Richard Long? Man, he must’ve had a real rough time in high school.” “How the fuck did he not realize he was pickpocketing a cop?” “Dude, he looks like he could be Geoff’s brother or something!”). After a while, though, he wandered off to hang out somewhere else for a little bit.

The Vagabond remained at the dining room table throughout the day. If he wasn’t working on meticulously cleaning his weapons, he was sitting back and watching Gavin. He occasionally chuckled at the comments made on the files, and a couple times he added in a few things himself (“Glad the cops found him. That guy’s a dick.” “Y’know, I really should have found a better fall-guy. That didn’t work as planned.”). But he maintained his silence most of the day.

Jack, Geoff, and Michael spent most of the day out of the apartment. They had to visit a few different places to discreetly bank their cash, Michael’s car had to be towed to a shop now that the search for them wasn’t going as strong, and they decided to get a head-start on their plans for ruining the Corpirate’s next heist. They didn’t get back until after dark, and Gavin hadn’t realized he hadn’t eaten during the day until Jack set a wrapped sandwich on his desk.

“Please tell me you slept while we were gone,” he said. Gavin didn’t answer, scrubbing at his eyes and turning away from the file spread across multiple screens. The Vagabond scoffed and Jack glanced at him over his shoulder with a frown. “Seriously, Gavin, you’ve been awake for three days. Go to bed.”

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m top,” Gavin said with a smile but he reached up to rub his head, in order to dispel a growing headache. The Red Bull had worn off a little while ago and now his head just felt thick and heavy, behind his eyes hurt, and his stomach was rolling painfully. But he didn’t want to go to bed. Not until he figured this out.

Jack turned his frown to Gavin and shoved the sandwich in his hands. “Eat this, turn off the computer, and go to sleep. You’re gonna make yourself sick,” Jack insisted. Gavin took the sandwich and opened it up, tearing off a mouthful of cheese and turkey.

“I’m fine,” he insisted around the mouthful of sandwich. “I’ll go to bed when I’m done.” Jack just stared at him for a moment and then sighed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Don’t work on this too much longer, or else Geoff is going to come out here and yell at you,” Jack warned, before he went back into the bedroom he was still sharing with Geoff. Gavin nodded absently, took one more bite of his sandwich, and then tossed it on the desk. Exhaustion was making his stomach churn and adding food wasn’t exactly helping.

“If you pass out there, I’m not moving you,” the Vagabond declared a few moments after Jack left. He got up from the table, a sandwich of his own in his hand, and moved into the kitchen. Gavin had noticed that he would move into an empty room any time he needed to eat or drink or do anything that required him to remove his mask. It was kind of weird, but it wasn’t really as creepy as everyone else thought. Gavin assumed he just wanted to maintain anonymity. Or he was just really shy, or freakishly disfigured. Whichever it was, it kind of made sense.

A couple hours later, Gavin was still awake, but he was pretty damn sure he’d figured it out. Almost everyone else was asleep by now. Jack had come out to check on him again, and as predicted, Geoff yelled at him about being a stubborn asshole who was going to fucking kill himself like this. Ray had shouted a goodnight down the hall, likely too immersed in his game to move from the bed, and the Vagabond appeared to be asleep on the couch.

“What’re you staring at?” Michael whispered in Gavin’s ear, and Gavin jumped, spinning around in his seat. He’d thought Michael would also be asleep, since Michael never bothered to say goodnight to Gavin whenever he turned in. And he wouldn’t have thought that Michael would initiate a conversation without Ray prodding him about it.

Michael himself looked kind of uncomfortable. He shifted in place, hands shoved into the pockets of his Mario pajama pants and a frown on his face. He wasn’t looking at Gavin, instead staring at the monitors and the picture in the center of a man smirking at the camera, his face covered in a painted pattern that resembled a skull.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Gavin said in surprise. Michael shrugged, still not looking over.

“Ray snores,” he said simply. “What’s this?”

Gavin turned back to the monitors, hiding a large yawn behind his hand. “I think it’s the Vagabond,” he said quietly, glancing at the man in question over his shoulder. The Vagabond hadn’t stirred, apparently still asleep. “I think I found his real name.”

Michael raised an eyebrow and glanced down at Gavin skeptically. “Why? Just cause you found another weirdo fascinated with skulls?” he scoffed. “Dude’s record isn’t even that bad. Fucking shoplifting and possession. That doesn’t really match the fucking Vagabond.”

Gavin pouted and bounced in his seat. “But it does, Michael!” he insisted, catching himself when he realized he was speaking too loudly and covering his mouth. He whispered between his fingers, and Michael leaned in closer, frowning in concentration. “Just look at him. He’s the right height and has the same hair, and face paint would explain why his eyes are all black when he blinks like that. Or when he sleeps. Look at him!”

Snorting, Michael turned over to the Vagabond and inched closer. Gavin knew that it would look just like he said, with dark holes where the eyes of the skull were. Michael reached out to touch the mask and Gavin hissed, “No, don’t!” Michael paused with his fingers over the mask, looking back at Gavin in annoyance. “I tried to touch his mask last night and he almost broke my fingers in his sleep.”

For a moment, it looked like Michael wasn’t going to listen, but then he pulled his hand back and shoved it back in his pocket, moving away from the couch. He stepped up to Gavin’s side again and looked at the police report once more. “Ryan? Doesn’t seem to fit,” he muttered. “It’s too normal. And where’s his last name?”

“It’s him, I swear,” Gavin said. “And there isn’t one. No fingerprints or anything either that would give the police a full identity. So they left it blank.”

Frowning again, Michael perched on the edge of the desk, looking between the smirking image on the screen and the mad mercenary sleeping on the couch. “Why are you so interested in him?” he finally blurted out. “He’s a creepy motherfucker who probably gets off on killing. He’s only here cause Geoff doesn’t want to pick a fight in the middle of another. Aren’t you worried you’re gonna piss him off by prying into his life?”

Gavin shrugged. “No. Not really,” he said, and Michael looked a little surprised. “He’s really not as scary as you guys think. Yeah, he likes to kill, but I’m already living with murderers. And the Vagabond has never targeted members of a crew that he’s a part of.” Gavin paused and grinned at Michael. “Besides, I trust you and the others to watch my back.”

Michael froze for a moment, apparently taken aback. “You…do?” he asked slowly. Gavin nodded, wringing his shirt between his hands.

“I know you don’t really like me,” Gavin said, looking away from Michael and down at his lap. “But I still trust you to watch out for me, and everyone else, if things go bad. You wouldn’t be here if you really hated me that much. You would’ve left a long time ago. So if you’re here, it means you at least care a little bit. And I trust you.”

Michael snorted and pushed himself off of the desk. “I do hate you,” he scoffed. “I’m just here cause Geoff asked me to. And Ray doesn’t want to fucking leave.”

Gavin shook his head, looking up at Michael again and frowning. “That’s not completely true,” he accused. “You’ve never been part of another crew for more than three days before now. You don’t have a good reputation for working with anyone but Ray. Any time you have a problem with a crew, you leave, sometimes with Ray and sometimes without. I know about you, Michael. And if you were really that bloody pissed off, you’d be gone.”

For a moment, Michael didn’t answer, staring at Gavin. Then he abruptly turned around and headed back to his room, saying over his shoulder, “Whatever. Go the fuck to sleep, you dumbass.” Gavin watched him go, not sure if he’d pissed off Michael again. He hoped not, since Michael seemed to be getting better around him. They’d actually talked without anyone mediating, which was a good sign. He didn’t want Michael to go back to being mean and snappy and grumpy all the time.

Sighing, Gavin powered down his computer, letting the living room fall into darkness for the first time in days. Jack had left a pile of blankets on the floor for him, after the Vagabond had claimed the couch, and Gavin collapsed on top of them. He’d finished his search, and his brain was really hurting. Sleep would probably be a good idea. He was out almost as soon as he hit the floor.


	11. An Explosive Night

Ryan wasn’t entirely sure what woke him up at first. It was still late at night and the apartment was strangely dark and quiet. But the odd silence wasn’t exactly new now. Ryan had heard Gavin and Michael’s (rather amusing) conversation and watched Gavin power down his computer and pass out on the floor. No, something else didn’t feel right.

Frowning, Ryan sat up and swung his legs off the couch, grabbing the mini auto rifle from the floor. It was a habit of his to leave a gun close at hand while he slept, and so far, it had proven quite useful.

Gavin lay exactly where he’d fallen, face down in a pile of blankets, his limbs thrown out and mouth hanging open. The golden sunglasses he seemed to always have with him were being smashed by his cheek, and Ryan suspected it probably wasn’t very comfortable. But he had been forced to sleep with his mask on for the past few days, so he wasn’t exactly one to talk.

Light streamed through the blinds, thin stripes falling over Gavin. But there shouldn’t have been enough light to do that, not if it was as early as Ryan suspected. A quick glance at his phone confirmed what his internal clock was telling him – it was only four, much too early for sunlight. And there weren’t any parking spaces out that way, where one of the other residents could have their lights on the window. If Ryan had to guess, he’d have said the sudden, harsh light was what had woken him.

Just as Ryan was getting up to investigate, a rock crashed through the window and dropped to the ground by Gavin’s leg. Most of the glass was caught by the blinds, falling below the window, but a few pieces scattered across Gavin. The hacker frowned, mumbled something unintelligible, and turned his head, apparently oblivious to what had just happened.

With the window now open, Ryan could hear an engine idling, and murmured conversation. He raised his gun toward the window, moving slowly closer. Whoever was out there wasn’t a normal vandal. Rebellious kids were the kind to break windows with rocks, but they normally high tailed it as soon as the damage was done. Kids never stuck around chatting when someone could be calling the police any second.

Ryan stepped carefully over Gavin and lifted one of the blind slats to get a better look outside. Some big vehicle, a truck or a van, was parked in the dirt outside the building, its brights on and pointed at the window. People milled about around and in front of the light, dark silhouettes wielding dark guns. It had to be the Corpirate; no one else was stupid enough to pull something like this.

Though he really had expected the Corpirate to act sooner than this.

Most of the bottom half of the window had been destroyed, except for a few shards of glass hanging stubbornly onto the frame. Ryan poked the barrel of his gun between the blind slats, took a second to aim, and fired.

Bullets shot off rapidly, accompanied by frenzied cracks as each was fired. One of the headlights exploded and died, and Ryan could hear the other rounds slamming into the front of the car. The men outside shouted and Ryan dropped, practically falling on Gavin, as they returned fire.

Gavin squawked and flailed, beating against Ryan’s arms until he got his wits about him. Bullets flew through the living room, biting into the walls and couch and shattering a couple of Gavin’s monitors. Gavin squawked again, squirming out from under Ryan and crawling to his computer.

“What the fuck is happening?” Geoff demanded from the hallway. Ryan peered around the edge of the couch and saw Geoff step out of the hall, gun in hand and wearing only his pajama pants. A bullet pierced the wall near his head and Geoff ducked out of sight again. “Never mind, I figured it out!”

“Got it!” Gavin cried, coming out from beneath the desk with a hard drive gripped in his hand. Ryan fired a few shots blindly through the window. The blinds were almost entirely destroyed by now, and Ryan could see muzzle flashes as guns fired. Someone shouted out in pain and Ryan grinned beneath his mask.

Through the sizable hole in the window, Ryan saw something fly through the air and land in the living room. It was round, about the size of his fist, and looked a little like a…

“Grenade!” Ryan yelled. He kicked it away and dove at Gavin. He bowled into the hacker, sending them both tumbling beneath the desk as the grenade exploded.

The living room shook with the explosion and shrapnel flew out, hitting Ryan’s back and legs. Gavin’s multiple monitors, already abused from the brief gunfight, crashed against the desk and the desk caved in. The fake wood, and sizable computer monitors, fell on Ryan’s head and shoulders and his vision flashed white from the impact.

“Shit,” Gavin gasped out from beneath Ryan. “Fucking shit.”

Another explosion boomed, a little further away, and gunshots erupted from the apartment. Ryan fought to push himself upright, the desk weighing on his back. “Keep those assholes occupied!” Geoff yelled. “Jack, help them!” The weight shifted and lightened and Ryan surged free, scattering rubble and debris onto the carpet around him. Ryan’s entire back throbbed with pain, but it was manageable, and he reached up to adjust his mask.

Gavin crawled away from his destroyed desk, hard drive in hand and apparently a little dazed. Jack helped him up and pulled Gavin out of the room. Geoff, Ray, and Michael returned fire, in their pajamas, through the broken window. The Corpirate’s men weren’t firing as rapidly anymore and Michael threw another of his own grenades out.

The grenade explosion was followed by a bigger, louder explosion and a large ball of fire. Ryan couldn’t help but grin as their truck went up in flames. The few men still standing outside started to scatter. Ryan joined the others in shooting since he’d somehow kept hold of his rifle. Even after the men were gone, Ryan fired a few rounds into the burning truck for good measure. Some people might have thought it excessive, but Ryan thought it fitting. They almost blew him up, for crying out loud!

“Is everyone okay?” Jack asked, coming out from the kitchen with Gavin as things quieted down. Ryan could hear the truck burning, flames crackling angrily, and something fell from what remained of the window and clattered to the floor.

“Fine,” Ray reported, yawning and rubbing at his eyes as he slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder.

“Got a little graze on my arm, but it’s not too bad,” Michael said, pulling at the torn fabric of his sleeve, beneath which was a relatively minor scrape that didn’t even seem to be bleeding that much.

“I think some of that shrapnel hit me,” Geoff complained, pulling up the front of his shirt and looking at his stomach.

“I’m okay. Just kind of sore,” Gavin said, rubbing at his shoulders. “Are you okay, Ryan? You got hit a lot.”

“Ryan?” Geoff asked in confusion, dropping his shirt and looking up.

Ray mumbled something in the middle of another yawn and then shook his head rapidly and tried again when Michael started laughing. “You figured it out without me? Jerk,” he said, though there wasn’t much feeling to the insult. Ryan was pretty sure the sharpshooter was about to fall asleep again where he stood.

“Oh, yeah. Gavin thinks he found the Vagabond’s name last night,” Michael offered.

“Did I?” Gavin asked, looking at Ryan hopefully. Ryan smiled behind his mask, amused by the hacker’s eagerness.

“I’m fine,” Ryan answered, even though his back was throbbing and he was pretty sure it would be covered in bruises later. He glanced back at the large hole in the wall, ignoring Gavin’s frown as Gavin probably tried to decide whether that was a yes or a no. “But we should leave. Now. Even if they don’t come back, the cops’ll be here soon. Someone will have noticed the explosions.”

Geoff nodded, looking around the apartment with a grimace. “True. We have to go. Everyone, grab your crap, whatever you need right now. We can replace everything else later. We’ll figure out what we’re doing when we’re away from here,” he ordered. “Now. Go.”

Everyone scattered, with Jack, Geoff, Michael, and Ray heading back into the bedrooms and Gavin going to investigate his demolished computer desk. Ryan grabbed up his weapons from the dining room table, and a few from the floor where they’d been knocked off. His smaller guns were tucked into various pockets and holsters in and under his clothing – a couple jacket pockets, a shoulder holster, a small pistol riding on his ankle – while his bigger weapons were either slung over his shoulders from straps or collected in his arms.

As Ryan was grabbing his rocket launcher and tucking it under his arm, he heard the sirens approaching. “They’re coming!” he shouted down the hall. Gavin back away from his desk, clutching a torn and battered camera case to his chest and hurrying to put on his shoes. Ryan threw his boots on as the others came back into the living room, carrying bags and weapons. Geoff had put on a shirt, though no one else had bothered to change.

“Michael, take Gavin and his car,” Geoff barked, checking the ammo in his pistol. “Jack and I will take the jeep. Ray, watch our backs with the Vagabond – make sure our way is clear and then follow us with the motorcycles. They’re too damn close to evade them.”

Ryan grinned and hefted his rocket launcher onto his shoulder, adjusting his grip on the rifle he held in his other hand. Most of the crew looked at him warily and Michael warned, “Don’t you fucking dare blow us up.”

“Don’t get in front of my rockets and I won’t,” Ryan answered mildly. Geoff just shook his head and grabbed the little box of earpieces from his pocket.

“Everyone keep in touch,” Geoff said, offering them each their earpieces. Ryan wasn’t sure if they’d already had a spare, or if one of them had found the time to construct another, but there was a sixth one available for him to use. He had to shift his mask forward slightly to get it in his ear, but he avoided taking it off fully. Gavin looked faintly disappointed.

The sirens continued to get louder, until they were practically blaring, and Ryan could see faint flashes of blue and red through the hole in the wall. Geoff led the way out of the apartment, snatching Jack’s bag from him and throwing it and his own into the jeep as Jack started it up. Michael and Gavin climbed into Gavin’s shitty little purple car, and Ryan could clearly hear Michael complaining about the vehicle through the coms. Ray and Ryan took opposite sides of the drive, aiming toward the complex’s entrance as the cops came up toward them, lights and sirens going full blast.

Ryan dropped his rifle in order to stabilize his rocket launcher with both hands. The cars skidded to a halt, blocking the drive, and cops jumped out of the car with guns in hand. “Drop your weapons!” one of them demanded. Ryan glanced sideways at Ray, catching him mirroring the motion, and they turned back to the cops together and fired.

Ray dropped the cop that had shouted with a clean shot through the head, and Ryan blew up the nearest cop car with a rocket to the engine. The car exploded, the ball of fire lighting up the night just like the truck had a few minutes ago. Bits of metal flew out from the vehicle, sending the cops diving for cover, and one of their uniforms caught fire. That man dropped to the ground, yelling and panicked as he tried to put himself out.

The cops started firing, over and around whatever cover they had found, and Ray took out one more while Ryan took cover around the corner of the building. Ray ducked behind a parked car, settling his sniper rifle on the hood. Ryan set aside his rocket launcher and reached out to grab his rifle from the ground. A bullet shot past his hand and he snatched the rifle up quickly, returning to his cover.

“Take the left, I got the right,” Ryan instructed, knowing that Ray could hear him clearly through the coms. Ray didn’t say anything and Ryan assumed that meant he was okay with it. Ryan took a breath and then leaned around the corner, firing at the cops nearest the exploded car. Meanwhile, Ray focused on the other side of the blockade.

The cops fell back, more of them dropping until only a few remained able and shooting. “Go through the left,” Ray instructed.

“Got it,” Jack said, revving the engine of the jeep and pulling out of his space, tires squealing. Ryan and Ray maintained their fire, pinning the cops behind their cars, as Jack shot past them and slammed into the back of the left-hand vehicle. A few of the cops dove out of the way as their car spun around toward them and Jack powered his way through, racing out of the complex. A couple bullets sped past the car, but most of the cops were more worried about Ray and Ryan, and let the jeep go with minimal trouble.

Michael and Gavin followed at their tail, breezing through the space Jack had cleared. Gavin shot out the window as they passed the cops, but Ryan wasn’t sure if he actually hit anyone. He did at least send them ducking for cover again, which was somewhat helpful.

“To the bikes!” Ryan shouted, snatching up his rocket launcher and holding down the trigger of his rifle as he stood and backed up toward his motorcycle. Ray followed his lead, firing steadily with his sniper rifle. Most of his bullets hit their mark, at least somewhere; cops stood with arms dangling uselessly at their sides, sat when the bullet wound in their leg kept them from standing upright, or were pulled out of the way by their companions when they fell with more serious injuries.

Ryan mounted his bike and started it, keeping his eyes trained on the cops. Now that him and Ray were out from behind cover, a few of the men were shooting more furiously, and one bullet dinged off of Ryan’s motorcycle. Ray started up Gavin’s American flag bike and charged forward, slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder as he went. He leaned forward on the bike, shooting past the cops, and more of them turned to shoot at him than they had when Michael and Jack went past.

Ryan stowed his rocket launcher in a modified holster on his bike, leveled his rifle on the handlebars, and tore away after Ray. Bullets shot past him and one of them punched into his leather jacket, lodging itself in the meat of his arm. Ryan shouted, snarled, and let loose with his gun, scattering bullets across the blockade. As he passed the cops, he kept the bike on track with the arm holding his gun and pulled a grenade from his pocket. He flipped his mask up and pulled the pin with his teeth, spitting it out to the side and tossing the grenade at the cars.

The road shook with the explosion a few seconds later, when Ryan was far enough out that he wasn’t affected by the blast. He bared his teeth in a grin and covered his painted face with his mask, rocketing out of the apartment complex as the cop cars burned behind him.


	12. Welcome to Suburbia

Jack took turns at random as soon as he was out of the complex, regularly glancing at his mirrors to make sure he wasn’t being pursued. The only lights he saw behind him were the little headlights of Gavin’s car, as Michael worked to stay close. But there were no sirens, no flashing lights, nothing. As far as he could tell, no one seemed overly interested in them, which was a little odd.

“Where are we headed?” Ray asked, his voice buzzing in Jack’s ear. He really didn’t hear much through the coms to cause any concern, either.

“Doesn’t matter,” Geoff said, kneeling on his seat and twisting around to grab his bag from the back. “Just drive. The two of you stick together, just in case anyone decides to follow.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that,” the Vagabond said calmly. It was strange for Jack to hear his voice through the earpieces, and Jack found himself checking the back seat just to make sure the Vagabond hadn’t somehow appeared.

“What the fuck did you _do_?” Michael asked, surprised, and Geoff shook his head. Jack thought about the explosion he’d heard through the coms, as Ray and the Vagabond were leaving.

“I don’t think we should get into that,” Geoff said, pulling his police scanner from his bag and setting it on the dashboard. He switched it on and it erupted in static for a second before settling, a calm voice coming from the box.

“–emergency vehicles are en route. All units, be advised, the suspects are running and are considered to be armed and very dangerous. Do not approach without back-up. Be on the lookout for any known vehicles and members of the Fake AH Crew within the area,” the dispatcher warned.

Frowning, Geoff shut the scanner off again, slumping back in his seat. “We need to get away from here. Mine and Jack’s fallback location is too close. They’d be on us quick as dicks. Anyone else have a place we can use?”

“My hide-outs are all too small to fit everyone,” Gavin answered.

“Well if they’re anything like that shithole we found you in before, I wouldn’t want to fucking go there, anyway,” Michael scoffed dismissively. Jack was pleasantly surprised that Michael wasn’t quite as rough or angry with Gavin at the moment, and that he’d gone so far as to say Gavin’s name earlier. It was a nice improvement.

“Hey, that place wasn’t too bad!” Gavin protested.

“Dude, I was afraid that ceiling was going to fall on me,” Ray chimed in.

“Maybe if you weren’t stomping around and shooting, you wouldn’t have had to worry about it,” Gavin huffed.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” the Vagabond said.

With a heavy sigh, Geoff snapped, “Does anyone have a legitimate suggestion?”

“My situation is very similar to Gavin’s. My places are too small,” the Vagabond replied. Jack had to wonder what kind of places he lived in. Jack had seen Gavin’s apartment, and assumed his other places would be just as messy and tech-filled. He guessed anywhere Ray lived had a wide array of electronics and gaming things, and it would also hold a collection of weapons and explosives for Michael. He imagined all of the Vagabond’s safe houses would probably be full of weapons and instruments of torture, maybe a stock pile of masks. Whatever it was, he doubted most people would consider it normal.

After a moment’s pause, Ray added slowly, “I guess our place is free. And it’s across town, so they might not notice us so fast.”

“Our place?” Michael demanded. “But…I’ve tried so hard to _not_ blow up our place. I don’t want it to be fucking destroyed.”

“We don’t have anywhere else to go, Michael. At least right now, while they’re looking for us,” Jack pointed out.

“We’re going to Michael’s place?” Gavin asked happily. “That sounds top. I want to see it!”

Michael sighed, the hint of an annoyed growl in the tone, and said grumpily, “I guess so.”

“Just no one blow up the place, and don’t touch my Xbox,” Ray advised.

“Sounds good,” Geoff said, turning to look at the headlights through the back window. “Jack, go ahead and let Michael lead the way. Ray, show the Vagabond where you’re headed. We’ll meet up there.”

Jack pulled over to the side of the road and Michael shot past him, leading the way across the city. Jack kept close to the little purple car, following Michael down narrow side streets and through tight back alleys. The long way through town was probably best, if the cops were looking out for their vehicles, so Jack didn’t say anything about it.

“You know this road is a dead end, right? There’s a wall coming up,” the Vagabond said.

There was a brief pause and then Ray said defensively, “Yeah. Of course I knew that! I was, uh, making sure you were paying attention… We should turn around.” The Vagabond snorted and Michael started laughing. Geoff smiled, shaking his head.

It took a little bit of time, weaving through the city as they were, but Michael finally turned into a driveway in a surprisingly nice little neighborhood, in front of a small house. The headlights of Gavin’s car flashed across the blue paint and the roughly trimmed yard as Michael went down the driveway and pulled around to the back of the house.

Jack followed, squeezing his jeep through a gap in the back yard fence and into a dirt lot that didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the nice house. He parked next to Michael and shut off the car, climbing out into the little lot. The others climbed out of the vehicles as well, and Michael tossed Gavin’s keys to the hacker. Gavin squawked, fumbled the keys, and ended up dropping them on the ground. Michael rolled his eyes and made his way to the back door, digging his own keys out of his pocket.

Michael unlocked the door and pushed it open with his foot, heading inside and flipping on the lights in the kitchen. “Don’t fuck shit up. Don’t yell, don’t shoot, don’t fucking blow anything up,” Michael warned. “We’re trying to keep a low profile here.”

“Your house is _cute_ , Michael,” Gavin teased, following close behind Michael and looking around at the small kitchen. It looked pretty normal and well-kept, nothing like Gavin’s apartment. There were even hanging decorations and cow-shaped accessories on the counters, like in an older woman’s house.

“Shut up,” Michael griped. “The next door lady watches it when we’re gone. She insisted on making it look nice a year or so ago. Fucking blame her.”

“Hey, don’t say anything bad about her. She’s nice. She made us a pie when we came home last time,” Ray said.

“Sounds like you guys got yourself a pretty nice place here,” Jack said, following Michael into the living room, where a three-monitor computer system and an entertainment center full of gaming consoles and a giant television sat.

"Pretty fucking smart, too,” Geoff said, flopping on the couch. “Doubt anyone would expect us to be here.”

“That is the point,” Ray said, and now Jack could hear the motorcycles coming down the road toward the house.

Michael nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the others in the room, apparently a little uncomfortable. “So…we have the same amount of rooms as you guys did,” he said, nodding at the short hallway that led off the living room. “Probably gonna be the same general set-up.”

“I’m not giving up my room,” Ray declared, as the motorcycle headlights flashed across the back windows and the two engines turned off. “You can share your room, Michael.”

“What? Mine? But all my shit’s there,” Michael complained.

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna blow up your fucking room. Calm down,” Geoff huffed, rolling his eyes.

Ray and the Vagabond came through the back door and Ray kicked it closed as he entered, the door slamming shut behind him. The Vagabond came into the living room holding his arm and Jack frowned at him, though he didn’t know if the Vagabond even noticed.

“Did you get hurt?” Jack demanded, and the Vagabond turned to look at him, hand dropping quickly from his arm. Without anything covering the spot, Jack could see a small hole in his jacket, and the black leather appeared to be wet.

“I’m fine,” the Vagabond said sternly.

“Are you sure, Ryan?” Gavin asked worriedly, turning to look at him. The Vagabond – or was it really Ryan? – nodded once, turning so Jack couldn’t see his arm. But Jack didn’t believe him, and he didn’t want anyone in the crew going around with unseen injuries that could potentially go bad. They didn’t need the Vagabond to get an infection and be unable to handle a weapon.

Jack stepped up next to the Vagabond and grabbed his arm, looking at the apparent injury more closely. Closer to it, he could actually smell the blood that soaked the Vagabond’s jacket sleeve and made Jack’s fingers sticky. The Vagabond pulled his arm roughly away from Jack and stepped away, grabbing at the bullet wound again. “I said I’m fine,” he insisted.

“You’re not fine. You got shot! At least let me disinfect it and bandage it up,” Jack said sternly, wiping the small amount of blood on his hand on his pants. The Vagabond just looked at him, silent and unmoving. It was a little creepy.

“Just let him look,” Geoff said, scowling at the Vagabond. “You don’t know how bad shit like that is until you look at it.”

The Vagabond continued to stare for a moment and then slowly and reluctantly unzipped his jacket, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor. He wore a grey long sleeve shirt underneath, and Jack could now easily see the blood coming from the bullet hole in his upper arm.

“Take off your shirt, too,” Jack advised.

The Vagabond paused, looking down at his arm. “I can’t,” he said, glancing back up at Jack. “I can’t get it over my mask.”

“Then take off the fucking mask, idiot,” Michael huffed, throwing himself on the couch beside Geoff and grabbing the television remote from the end table. He turned on the television, flipping through channels mindlessly.

Gavin was staring at the Vagabond eagerly, a grin plastered on his face. The Vagabond looked between each of them for a moment, apparently debating, and then slowly reached up to remove his mask.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting when the mask came off, but he wasn’t expecting another mask made of cracked face paint. The Vagabond seemed to enjoy his skull motif, since the paint maintained the same theme. Red, black, and white paint covered the entirety of his face, and thin threads of pale skin could faintly be seen between the cracks.

“I knew it!” Gavin crowed, pumping his fist in the air. “I knew I found your record!” Michael looked a little impressed, glancing up at the Vagabond, but he was mostly focused on the television. Geoff and Ray were openly staring at the Vagabond – at Ryan – who frowned and shifted uncomfortably, spinning his mask around in his hands.

“You wear face paint underneath your mask?” Ray asked incredulously.

“It’s a fallback,” Ryan said, his voice a little clearer now that it wasn’t being obstructed by plastic. “In case I lose my mask.” He bounced the mask in his hand for a moment and then shoved it at Jack, who grabbed it in surprise and then tossed it on the couch between Geoff and Michael. Ryan pulled his shirt off, being careful of the bullet wound in his arm, and the shirt joined his jacket on the floor.

Jack paused, staring at Ryan. His chest and back were covered in scars and old markings. Small burn marks, similar to the marks made when burning cigarettes were pressed to skin, covered his chest. Rough scars from old bullet wounds peppered his arms, and a couple appeared on his stomach and lower back. There were thin marks from knives or other blades, and what looked like possible whip marks across his back. His back was currently covered in darkening bruises from the desk falling on him, and blood ran down his arm from the open wound.

The new bullet wound only made one hole, as it entered Ryan’s arm; there was no exit wound, so the bullet was still inside.

“Holy fuck, dude! How the fuck haven’t you died yet?” Michael exclaimed, suddenly far more interested in what was happening in his living room than what was on the television.

“How many people did you fucking piss off?” Geoff added.

“Mostly just the one,” Ryan said dryly, not looking at any of them and inspecting his arm instead. “I think the bullet’s still in there.”

Jack nodded, looking up at Ray, who was still staring wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Ray. Can you bring a chair in here?” he asked. Ray’s head snapped over to Jack and he nodded, disappearing into the dining room and coming back a moment later with a chair that he placed in the middle of the floor. “Sit down,” Jack told Ryan, gesturing to the chair. “I’m amazed you’re still standing with all the blood you’ve lost.”

Ryan sat down without argument, slumping in the chair and trying to hide a wince as he slammed his back against the wooden slats. It was strange, being able to see his actual facial expressions, even though it was still difficult to make them out fully behind the face paint.

“You guys have a first aid kit, right?” Jack asked, looking at Ray and Michael. Geoff and Gavin watched quietly, and Gavin looked ready to keel over himself. Jack caught Geoff’s eye and nodded to Gavin pointedly.

“Get a first aid kit and some whisky or something to kill the pain,” Geoff said, standing up from the couch.

“I don’t really drink,” Ryan interrupted.

Geoff frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is wrong with you people?” he demanded, looking at Ryan and Ray. “I don’t fucking care if you drink or not, you’re gonna want it when Jack pulls that bullet out of your arm.”

“I’ll get the kit,” Ray offered, leaving the room again, toward the kitchen.

“Okay. Michael, where’s your room at?” Geoff asked, while Jack knelt down beside Ryan and started examining the bullet wound. It was still bleeding readily, coating Ryan’s arm and side in blood.

“End of the hall,” Michael said, pushing himself up as well and tearing his eyes away from Ryan. “I’ll show you.”

Geoff nodded. “Thanks. Gavin, come with us,” he ordered. Gavin looked over at them, surprised. “You’re going to sleep, right now. No electronics, no Internet, no work. You need to fucking sleep.”

Ray returned with the first aid kit and a half-empty bottle of liquor, passing them to Jack, and Ryan watched the two of them lazily. Gavin looked at them and then frowned at Geoff. “But I’m not tired,” he protested, despite the dark circles beneath his eyes and the fact that he was swaying in place. “There’s too much going on. I can’t sleep right now. I’ll sleep later.”

“You’ve been saying that for three days,” Geoff said. “You’re going to bed. Now.”

“Gavin, go to sleep,” Jack said over his shoulder. “Ray, can I get a wet towel?” Ray nodded, but before he left to grab what Jack needed, he stepped up beside Gavin and clasped the hacker on the shoulder.

“Get some rest, Vav. We’re safe here. Promise,” he said with a smile. Gavin pouted but nodded and Ray left, letting Gavin follow Michael and Geoff down the hall.

Ray returned a moment later, a dripping wet hand towel in his grip. Jack took the towel and stared at Ray for a moment as water dripped on the ground. “You know, it probably would have been better to wring this out,” Jack said dryly.

“You asked for a wet towel. You didn’t ask for a damp towel,” Ray pointed out, crouching down next to Jack. Jack shook his head but decided to use it anyway. The living room floor would just end up getting wet, as well as bloody.

Jack started cleaning as much blood from Ryan’s arm as he could, listening to the conversation going on down the hall, through the coms.

“You have so much cool stuff, Michael,” Gavin exclaimed.

“Don’t touch that! You’re gonna break it,” Michael snapped.

“No I won’t!” Gavin protested, and then Jack heard a faint crash and Gavin say sheepishly, “Oops.”

“God dammit, Gavin! Stop touching shit!” Michael roared, and Jack could hear him from down the hall even without the earpieces.

Ryan smirked, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. Jack cleaned up most of the blood and held the towel to the injury, digging around in the first aid kit with his other hand.

“Give me your phone,” Geoff said, and Gavin stammered out a reply that Jack couldn’t quite decipher. “You need to sleep. You’re not going to sit in here on your phone all night working.”

“Can you get me a bowl or something, Ray?” Jack asked, grabbing a pair of long tweezers, the disinfectant, bandages, a suture needle, and thread from the kit. Ray got up again and came back with a small bowl, setting it at Jack’s knee and then sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Sleep,” Geoff ordered, just before him and Michael came back into the living room. “And take your earpiece out, Gavin.”

“But I want to know what’s going on,” Gavin complained.

“Then you’re not sleeping. Take it out,” Geoff said, sitting back on the couch. “And if you don’t drink that, then I will, and you’re gonna regret not having any.”

“Take it,” Ryan muttered, waving vaguely toward the bottle beside Jack. Ray passed it over to Geoff, watching Jack work. Geoff shrugged and took the bottle, settling in to his seat. Michael dropped down beside him, returning to channel surfing and covering a yawn with his hand.

Jack set everything aside and said to Ray, “I need you to keep hold of this towel. Wipe up the blood, got it?” Ray nodded and grabbed the towel, pressing it to the skin beneath the bullet wound.

“Can do,” he said. Jack held the injury open with his fingers, blood quickly coating his hand, as he poked around inside Ryan’s arm with the tweezers as delicately as he could. Ryan’s jaw tightened and he groaned, hands clenching into fists.

“Told you you’d want some alcohol to dull the pain,” Geoff muttered, taking a drink of said alcohol and sparing Ryan a quick, sideways glance.

It took a few minutes, and Jack was pretty sure Ryan was close to passing out when he started to relax suddenly in the chair, before the bullet was pulled from his arm. The towel was now dyed red, and Jack’s hands were stained with blood, but the bullet was out and sitting innocently in its bowl.

Ray pressed the towel against the open wound as Jack set the tweezers in the bowl, grabbing the suture needle and thread. As soon as the needle was threaded, Jack nudged Ray’s hand out of the way and quickly flicked the curved needle through Ryan’s skin, closing up the bullet wound with a few practiced strokes. Jack tied off the thread and snapped it, tossing the needle in the bowl as well. The tools in there needed to be thoroughly disinfected before they were used again.

“Ryan. You need to go lay down,” Jack said, standing up and nudging Ryan’s leg with his own. Ryan stirred slightly, blinking his eyes open blearily, and he slowly started to push himself upright. “Can you two make sure he gets to Michael’s room?” Jack asked Geoff and Michael over his shoulder. “Ray and I need to clean up a bit.”

“Man, blood takes forever to get out of this carpet,” Ray moaned, looking at the watery blood stain beside the chair as he attempted to clean his hands off on the bloody hand towel.

“The carpet cleaner should be in the storage closet,” Michael supplied, lingering nearby as Geoff helped Ryan to stand. “I’ll check while I’m grabbing more blankets. Do you think we’re gonna have enough for everyone?”

“I don’t know, dude. But only two of us are sleeping right now anyway, so I don’t think it matters,” Ray answered, going into the kitchen with his towel. Jack followed, bowl in hand, while Geoff and Michael got Ryan settled down. With all the marks Jack had seen on Ryan’s body, he wondered how many times Ryan had had to clean himself up after injuries like that, and how he’d even managed to do that. He was barely conscious now, when he hadn’t had to do much more than sit. It was amazing that he _hadn’t_ died before now.

Jack listened to the quiet conversation down the hall through the coms as Michael threw blankets on the ground for Ryan, and he could hear Gavin’s voice faintly, since he seemed to have taken out his earpiece like Geoff had asked. Meanwhile, him and Ray started cleaning up the bloody mess from the impromptu surgery.

Jack just wished everything else would go smoothly from here on in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all again for your support. I love reading your comments, or waking up in the morning to a new email telling me that someone else liked my story enough to leave kudos. It means a lot to me, and helps me keep going with this, so thanks!


	13. The Corpirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling really creative and had a need to keep writing, so here's a super early update. You're welcome!

The next month was extremely busy for Gavin. After the apartment complex explosion, the police had started hunting down the crew. Pictures of Geoff, Jack, and masked Ryan were up everywhere, while the lads were mentioned as a group of currently unknown crew members often see with the rest of the crew. Because of this, the lads were the only ones free to come and go as they pleased, leaving the others in the relative safety of Ray and Michael’s house.

Gavin got to repeatedly meet the woman who watched the house, Sheila, and managed to learn a little bit more about the Ray and Michael the neighborhood knew. In order to explain their long absences and any weapons, the two of them had apparently told their neighbors they were FBI agents, and Gavin was similarly introduced. The first time Sheila came by to check on them (with a gift of lasagna, which was quickly devoured that night), Ray and Michael wove an elaborate story about the job they had presumably just finished, on the other side of the country, and Gavin expanded up on it when they paused.

Most of the time, the lads weren’t even at the house. Geoff had them running endless errands the gents couldn’t do themselves, just in case they were recognized. Ryan especially was forbidden from leaving the house, because a man in a skull mask drew far more attention than anyone else.

Runs to a nearby store were frequent; they needed to replace a lot of what they left at Jack and Geoff’s apartment. Gavin obtained new monitors from a Best Buy delivery truck, to add to the house’s current system, as well as cameras and various odds and ends for him to use in the creation of his own devices.

Geoff needed gel for his mustache, and he, Jack, Gavin, and Ryan all needed new changes of clothes. Food vanished almost as soon as it was brought back, and there were frequent runs for snacks, meals, coffee, soda, alcohol, and energy drinks. Ryan needed more face paint, Michael had to grab his car, Jack asked for more first aid supplies, and Ray looked into expanding his gaming library. More blankets were needed, and toiletries. Ammunition was retrieved for their more common weapons, and Michael gathered more components for his explosives.

When they weren’t on general housekeeping errands, Jack and Geoff had the lads working on gathering stuff for the next big job. The three of them dealt with the crew’s contacts in Geoff’s place. They talked to Caleb about ordering and obtaining less common ammunition, such as rockets for Ryan’s rocket launcher and C4. Kerry worked on getting the vehicles they needed, and Jeremy set up a new storage location near the train tracks.

Once during the month, Gavin had answered the door to find a pair of cops that had been going door to door asking about the crew. Gavin convinced them that he knew nothing about these criminals, and once the cops left, Ray and Michael spent some times talking to their neighbors and making sure that, even if someone noticed something in the house, they didn’t say anything.

The constant time spent around each other was starting to drive everyone a little bit crazy. Geoff spent most of his time drunk or asleep, and he often alternated between joking around with someone and yelling at them a few minutes later. Ryan kept away from them most of the time, often sitting out in the back lot with the cars to get out of the house. He didn’t take off his mask again, and once more ate and applied face paint where no one would see his face. Gavin found him practicing his aim with a silenced pistol one afternoon, shooting holes in the fence where he’d painted targets. It was a miracle there was never anyone on the other side of the fence for him to hit.

Jack kept making sure everyone’s injuries were healing well and that no one was straining themselves. He ended up yelling at Ryan a couple times when Ryan popped his stitches during practice shooting sessions and after he disappeared one night and came back with someone else’s blood on his jacket. Geoff was also getting into trouble with Jack frequently, when he’d drink too much and do something stupid or take out his frustration at being trapped inside on someone who didn’t deserve it.

Most of Ray’s free time was spent playing video games in one room or another. He wandered around the house or sat in an isolated corner on his DS, he sprawled across the couch playing something on his PS3 or Xbox, or he hid in his room on his second Xbox console. Gavin often heard him exclaiming to the television or screen, either yelling at himself or something in the game. His outbursts sometimes made Geoff or Michael shout back for him to shut the fuck up.

Michael spent some time playing video games with Ray, but he often got angry with it when a part of a game was more difficult than he’d expected. He spent a little bit of time with shooting practice with Ryan, or building new explosives. He often ended up leaving to blow something up when he got annoyed or frustrated, which happened more and more frequently as the month wore on. Occasionally, these explosions made it onto the news, though the blame never came around to them.

Gavin himself got bored quickly when he didn’t have to go out and do anything. He set up a security system in the house, worked on his new computer set-up, updated the earpieces, and triple checked to make sure he hadn’t missed anything in the Corpirate’s files. But even more of his time was spent checking what everyone else was doing. He played games with Ray, talked with Jack, drank with Geoff, tried and normally failed to talk to Ryan, and watched Michael putting together explosives.

But as bored as Gavin had been between running errands and talking to people, it was nothing like what he was feeling now that they had actually started their job.

Gavin triple checked his cords and wires and made sure that the generator was running, even though the light and the computer wouldn’t be on and working without it. The small space was lit only by the lamp on the desk that had been bolted to the wall, and it was a little weird and creepy. Gavin sat back in his chair, turning the fan more toward his face and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“It’s hot in here,” Gavin complained, attempting to scoot his chair toward the cooler in the corner, but he forgot it was bolted to the ground, so it didn’t move.

“What the fuck were you expecting?” Michael demanded through the coms. “It’s like ninety fucking degrees out here, and you’re sitting in the back of a fucking moving truck. Of course it’s fucking hot.”

“I don’t see why you’re complaining,” Ray added. “You just get to sit and watch a computer screen with drinks and cookies, while we do all the hard work.”

Gavin pouted, getting up to grab a Red Bull from the cooler and a chocolate chip cookie from the container Sheila had given them before they’d left. “But at least you guys are doing something,” Gavin said, throwing himself back down on his chair and staring at the video feeds on his six monitors. “I just have to sit here, where it’s hot and stuffy, and I can’t do anything.”

“I’m with Ray. You’re fine,” Ryan grumbled. Gavin had thought it strange that Ryan had insisted on wearing his leather jacket and black mask in the heat, but that had been Ryan’s choice, not his.

“We need you there, Gavin,” Geoff huffed, and it wasn’t the first time he’d said it either. “Just keep an eye out, would you?”

Gavin sighed and bit down on his cookie, looking between the monitors absently, but the only movement he saw came from the rest of the crew.

Geoff had decided to move everything from their storage shed the day before the Corpirate had planned to hit it. He didn’t want to do it sooner, because if they had, it would be easy for the Corpirate to change his plans to hit a new location if he found out about it. But at the same time, Geoff didn’t want to be racing against the Corpirate to clear out their own stash the same day. So now they were trying to empty the shed before anyone noticed they were there at all.

From his desk, Gavin could see everything through the cameras he’d hacked into. He could see the street nearby and watched cars passing. He could see the entrance to the storage complex and down each row inside. Gavin could see his own moving truck, parked in the row beside the one the rest of the crew was in. They had two trucks themselves and had only just started moving things into them.

Getting into the camera system had been easy enough, since Geoff and Jack owned the storage complex. They didn’t legally own it, of course, in order to keep their names of off anything, but it was in their territory and anything they said to the legal owners went. All they had to say was that one of theirs needed unlimited access to the security system and Gavin had been in.

“When did we get this?” Jack asked, hefting a box into one of the trucks. Geoff moved to his side, moving from his position next to the storage unit’s entrance where he’d been supervising.

“Um…I think Caleb gave it to us?” Geoff suggested. “I don’t know. Michael, can you use this?”

“Dude, underground mines? Fuck yeah!” Michael exclaimed when he looked inside the box, dropping his case in the truck and grabbing at the box. “I can totally use this shit.”

“Great. How’s your set-up going?” Geoff asked.

“It’s going. Still got a bit of work to do,” Michael said, moving off into the unit with the box of mines. Ryan had been standing behind him with another box, shifting impatiently, and shoved between Geoff and Jack to throw his load into the truck.

Gavin watched them work for a little while, nibbling on a cookie and rocking in his chair. It was so boring, watching the rest of the crew move things from a storage shed into moving trucks, and their conversations weren’t even interesting to listen to. Jack and Geoff occasionally commented on something they found, and Ray continually complained about how heavy things were and hot how it was, but it was nothing out of the ordinary.

The only somewhat interesting thing was looking at what Geoff and Jack had kept in storage, besides boxes and containers that Gavin couldn’t see into. Jack pulled out a bazooka and gently laid it in one of the trucks. Ray and Geoff drove a couple motorbikes up the ramp to the back of the other moving van. Ryan pulled out what looked like a pickup truck with a large gun mounted on the bed. But most of what was brought out, Gavin couldn’t see, and the interesting items were few and far between.

Hoping for some kind of distraction, Gavin looked at the other monitors, in case someone else had wandered into the complex. It was a large place; loads of people used it for storage, so it wouldn’t be weird for someone else to be there. But he wasn’t expecting the person he saw.

“Uh…guys?” Gavin said nervously, sitting up straight and leaning toward the camera that was monitoring the front gate. “I think we have a problem.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

“The Corpirate is here,” Gavin answered quietly, staring at the screen.

A single man stood at the gate, looking into the complex with one hand on his hip and a phone pressed to his ear. It was difficult to make out features through the camera, but Gavin recognized the bald head and the eye patch. The Corpirate was tall and lanky and wearing a suit similar to Geoff’s, except with a tie in place of a bowtie. He wasn’t doing anything, just standing there talking on his phone, but just seeing him gave Gavin the chills.

“What?! What the fuck is he doing here?” Michael shouted.

“Gavin, what’s happening?” Geoff demanded at the same time, and when Gavin looked back at the screen where he could see the rest of the crew, most of them had stopped working and were looking back toward the entrance. Ryan tossed down a case that almost looked like it would hold an instrument of some kind and pulled a gun from his jacket. He only took a couple steps toward the entrance before Geoff grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to him. If we kill him now, we’re done, game over, right?” Ryan insisted. “It is just him, right Gavin?”

“Um, yeah, it looks like it… But I don’t know. These cameras aren’t really hidden, and his guys know how to hide from them. I just know that he’s here,” Gavin answered, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Ryan, you’re not going out there,” Geoff ordered, keeping hold of Ryan. “Gavin, _what’s going on?_ ”

Gavin frowned, turning back to the camera monitoring the entrance. The Corpirate hadn’t really moved much, except to pace in front of the entrance. “He’s just staying near the entrance, talking on the phone. It’s like he’s waiting for something,” Gavin answered.

“Okay, let’s keep going and get the hell out of here,” Geoff said. “Michael, forget what you’re doing and help us move this. Let’s go, guys; we need to get this out _now_.” Michael, Ray, and Jack started moving without a word, tossing equipment and crates into the trucks. Geoff paused with his hand on Ryan’s arm. “Do not go out there. We’ll get to him later, but we’re not fucking going after him when he wants us to.”

Ryan and Geoff stared at each other for a moment and then Ryan brushed Geoff’s hand off, turning to help the others. Geoff watched him for a moment and then started moving himself, barking out orders to the rest of the crew.

“Does anyone else hear sirens?” Ray asked suddenly a minute later, and now that it was pointed out, Gavin realized he could. They were faint, but growing louder. The Corpirate finally hung up his phone, put it in his pocket, and turned to watch the road.

“There’s a lot of shit going on in this city. It might not be for us,” Michael said.

“No, I think it’s for us,” Gavin corrected. The camera pointed at the street gave him a clear view of the cop cars that pulled up in front of the storage complex, lights flashing, and he could hear the sirens clearly. Two vans stopped behind them and Gavin swore loudly. “They brought SWAT!”

“What?!” Geoff demanded, surprise making his voice crack comically. “Fuck, we gotta go.”

“I think the Corpirate ratted us out,” Gavin informed them slowly, staring at his monitors with a frown.

As Gavin watched, cops and SWAT guys hopped out of their vehicles, and the Corpirate stepped up to meet one of the detectives. They spoke for a moment and the Corpirate pointed into the complex. The detective nodded and turned to the other police officers, gesturing as he presumably spoke.

“Well that’s a new one,” Jack commented, as Gavin watched the SWAT teams lead the way into the complex, the cops behind them.

“Jack, you and Ray grab a van. Michael, go get Gavin and get ready to blow. Ryan, man the gun. We’re getting the hell out of here, now,” Geoff ordered, rushing to the front of the pickup truck himself.

The rest of the crew didn’t move far before SWAT rounded the corner into the row they were parked in. Immediately, the crew drew weapons and dove into cover. Ray grabbed his sniper rifle from his back, dropping behind one of the moving vans. Gavin could see his legs as he laid down on the ground, presumably setting up his gun beneath the vehicle. Geoff ducked behind the pickup, pistol in hand, and Jack mimicked him behind the front of one of the moving vans. Michael jumped inside one of the vans, leaning out just far enough to see the police, the tip of his rifle poking out from the opening. Ryan grabbed the bazooka from the moving truck and dropped to one knee beside Ray.

Distracted by what was going on with everyone else, Gavin failed to notice the men moving toward his own van in the next row over. At least, until he heard the latch of the moving truck rattle.

“Did you guys actually lock the back of this truck?” Gavin asked quietly, sliding beneath the desk and behind the generator, pulling his pistol from his pocket.

“No, why?” Ray muttered.

There was a pause, after the latch was undone, before the door was rolled up violently, banging against the back of the truck. Gavin flinched, grip tightening on his pistol, and he could see a group of SWAT members through the gap between the desk and the generator. They had their guns leveled at the inside of the van and were dressed in full protective gear that Gavin’s little pistol bullets wouldn’t really be able to penetrate.

“Drop your weapon and come out slowly with your hands visible,” one of the men ordered, his voice distorted by his helmet, and Gavin gulped. This really wasn’t how he was expecting the day to go.


	14. Team Nice Dynamite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have the creative bug, so here's another quick upload! Enjoy.

Michael wondered how the fuck a SWAT team managed to sneak up on them and decided to blame Gavin. It was supposed to be his job to make sure no one surprised them, but instead, not only was there SWAT and cops everywhere, but the fucking Corpirate was out there somewhere, too. And it was all Gavin’s fucking fault.

It was Gavin’s fault that Michael was crouched in the back of a moving truck with a bruise forming on his shin from hitting the metal ramp and sharp box edges pressing into his side. It was all fucking Gavin’s fault that they were staring down a full SWAT team, in full body armor, plus more cops. And it was _Gavin’s god damn fault_ for not warning them in the first place.

Michael was pointedly ignoring the fact that Gavin did, in fact, say that SWAT had arrived. He just wanted to be able to blame someone for all this shit.

“Drop your weapons and step out with your hands where we can see them,” one of the pigs ordered and Michael scoffed, keeping his gun trained on the cops. Like hell he was tossing it away just because these assholes were ganging up on his crew.

“Did you guys actually lock the back of this truck?” Gavin asked quietly and Michael frowned, trying to remember if they had or not. They’d talked about it briefly, but he was pretty sure Gavin was too worried about not being able to get out to let them actually fasten the padlock.

“No, why?” Ray answered just as quietly from beneath the truck Michael hid in. A second later, Michael heard something bang through the coms, more metallic and less like a gunshot, followed by a nervous squeak from Gavin.

“Gavin? Are you okay?” Jack asked worriedly, but Michael heard nothing else from across the complex. But really, the group in front of them was a little more of a pressing matter than Gavin’s skittishness.

When none of the crew answered the cop’s demands, SWAT started moving slowly forward, guns held level and ready. “Back off!” Geoff barked, but his shout did nothing to deter their steady advance. “Ray?”

Ray’s sniper rifle cracked twice in quick succession and the hard packed dirt in front of the SWAT team flew apart from the bullets’ impact. SWAT paused and Geoff shouted from behind the truck, “Back the fuck off or the next shot goes through gaps in your fucking armor!”

“All right, Ramsey,” called one of the cops behind SWAT, and Michael recognized him. It was the bigger of the two detectives that seemed to show up everywhere, Burnie. “Just put down your weapons and come out peacefully, and no one has to get hurt.”

Ryan scoffed. “Yeah, that’s convincing,” he said scathingly. “Or I could just shoot you all and we’re free to go.”

“Guys, I don’t know what to do,” Gavin whispered. Then he squawked, “No, get back!” A shot rang out through the coms and echoed through the storage complex.

“Gavin, was that you?” Jack asked quickly.

“Yeah. I think I surprised them. But I don’t think they’ll stay back long,” Gavin answered nervously.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Geoff muttered. “Ryan, get them off us. Michael, Ray, close up the backs of the trucks. Jack, Ray, you two are still driving. Ryan, keep them away as we get going. Michael, go for Gavin. Do whatever you have to in order to get him out, then blow the unit when we’re gone. Got it?”

Michael nodded, setting his jaw, though he didn’t know if Geoff saw him. He shifted, getting ready to run, and something in the truck hit him in the back. Scowling, Michael turned to shove the object away and then paused, grinning. “Hey, Ryan?” he said conversationally. “Hold off on blowing them up for a second. I’m gonna try to draw some of them away.”

“Michael, what are you doing?” Geoff asked warily, but Michael wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. He was too busy shifting things in the back of the truck to get to what he needed.

“How are we playing this, Ramsey?” Burnie called out. “Are you coming peacefully or are you going to make this difficult?”

“Y’know, as much as I miss seeing you, Burnie, I’m gonna stay here. My friends might be a little upset if I abandoned them,” Geoff answered loudly. His voice dropped again and he muttered, “Whatever you have planned, Michael, you should do it now.”

“Got it!” Michael crowed, flinging himself onto one of the motorbikes they’d driven into the back of the truck. And then everything went to shit.

Something metallic rolled and bounced across the hard dirt ground, and smoke spilled into the back of the truck. Ray, still lying on the ground, started coughing violently. Ryan fired the bazooka and one of the storage units behind the cops exploded, close enough that Michael worried his own nearby charges would go off. Bullets started flying, and Gavin squawked and then shouted out in pain.

Scowling, Michael started up the bike and revved the engine, holding his breath as the smoke grew thick and dense. He gunned the engine, shooting off backwards and flying out of the back of the truck. He landed heavily and winced as the bike’s seat slammed into his crotch.

“Watch it!” Ryan barked, over Geoff’s shouted instructions.

“Ryan, keep them back! Jack, get Ray out of here! I got the pickup, you two take a van. Last van’s yours, Ryan! Gavin, hang tight! No one get got!” Geoff hollered, his voice thready and strained from the smoke. Ray continued to cough, and Michael jumped as Ryan came into view, dark skull materializing from the smoke.

Leaving the rest of the crew to deal with their situation, Michael took off toward the cops, praying that no one shot him as he went. Like Ryan, SWAT members appeared suddenly and Michael shouted, both in surprise and a wordless challenge. He swerved around them, keeping a firm grip on the bike so he didn’t fall off. Something hard cracked against his already bruised shin and Michael jerked the bike sideways, nearly colliding with a wall as he shot out of the smoke.

Most of the cops were busy dealing with the rest of the crew, but a few remained outside the smoke screen. Those that could see clearly, however, noticed Michael immediately. Burnie shouted something, raising his gun, but Michael beat him to it. Michael propped his gun on his opposite forearm and squeezed the trigger as he bowled past the cops. Men dropped to the ground, either injured or taking cover, and Michael grinned.

At least until his back tire was shot out.

The motorbike wobbled and fishtailed, skidding across the dirt and bringing Michael uncomfortably close to the fire that ate at a storage unit hit by Ryan’s bazooka. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Michael muttered, heat flashing across his side. And then the bike straightened out again and Michael was moving away from the fire and the cops, toward the next row over. The bike bounced and stuttered, and after a second Michael decided to bail rather than trying to make another turn.

Meanwhile, his coms were erupting in sound, overlapping so much that Michael found it difficult to make out any one specific voice.

“Michael, what’s going on?” Geoff demanded.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Ray rasped between coughs.

“Well die and shoot!” Ryan snapped. “These assholes are everywhere and they _won’t die!”_

“Ray, you’re not dying. Just breathe,” Jack said at about the same time.

“Ryan, get in the fucking van, we need to go!” Geoff shouted.

“Guys, help!” Gavin cried out pitifully.

Ryan roared and another unit behind Michael blew up, heat exploding outward and the blast propelling him forward a few inches more. Jack and Ray cried out, Gavin babbled something unintelligible, and Geoff was trying to ask so many different people what was going on that he kept stumbling over everyone’s names. Engines roared to life, flames crackled, and gunfire cracked so rapidly it was difficult to tell one shot from the next.

It was essentially just a random clusterfuck of sound.

“God dammit, just leave so I can blow up these pigs!” Michael roared, slamming on the brakes and making the bike skid across the dirt. Michael tumbled off, landing roughly on his shoulder, and the motorbike crashed into a wall. Ignoring the ache in his leg and arm, Michael pushed himself up and charged toward Gavin.

Gavin was dealing with a considerably smaller group, yet he was still easily overwhelmed. There were only a few SWAT guys around, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder if there were more going around to the rear of the crew. A handful of cops stood outside Gavin’s moving truck, relatively relaxed except for the nervous and anxious glances they spared toward where the crew was, and where smoke drifted above the buildings.

Gavin himself had been pinned down in the back of the truck by one of the SWAT assholes, who was cuffing the hacker. The other detective, Joel, stood nearby.

“Hey, assholes!” Michael hollered, trying not to hobble too much as he stormed up, but each step sent pain shooting up his shin. The cops turned to face him, raising their weapons, and Gavin’s eyes lit up hopefully. “Catch!” Michael dug a grenade from his pocket, pretended to pull the pin, and threw it.

The cops moved, scrambling away from the grenade. Joel pulled Gavin from the truck and around the side, away from the open drive. Gavin yelped in surprise and Michael charged after them, shooting at the SWAT team to keep them back.

Joel had turned his back to Michael, putting himself between Gavin and the threatened explosion, which was a little surprising. But it made it so much easier for Michael. He stepped up behind Joel, tapped him on the shoulder, and punched him square in the jaw when he turned. Joel stumbled and then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Yes!” Geoff crowed suddenly. “We’re clear! Michael, blow it!”

Michael scrabbled at his pocket, pulling out a transmitter, and grinned victoriously at Gavin. And it was only because of that motion that he saw the Corpirate walking calmly toward them, pistol extended and a smirk spreading across his face.

“Gavin, move!” Michael shouted, shoving Gavin to the ground as a gunshot cracked, relatively quiet in the roaring chaos. Something slammed into Michael’s chest, just below his collar bone, and he stumbled back a step, breath catching in his throat and hand flying up to his chest.

Michael’s balance wavered and he fell backwards, trying and failing to catch himself. He fell flat on his back, gasping out a breath and pulling his hand away from his chest. He was shaking, his fingertips covered in blood.

“Michael!” Gavin shouted, scrambling over to Michael’s side. “Oh, god, Michael. Michael, are you okay?” Gavin squirmed for a moment, tucking his legs through the circle made by his cuffed hands so that his hands were in front of him. He laid his hands on the injury, pressing down and making Michael wince. “Guys, Michael’s down! I need you!”

“Fuck! Ryan, you’re on crowd control. We’re coming, Gav,” Geoff said, and his voice faded in and out strangely in Michael’s ear. Michael blinked quickly, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, but it didn’t hurt as bad as he thought it should. It was just difficult to breathe right.

“Why’d you let yourself get shot, Michael? Why’d you do that? God, are you okay? You’re gonna be okay,” Gavin babbled, still pressing down on the injury, eyes wide and wild as he stared down at Michael.

“He was gonna shoot you,” Michael muttered. “Team Nice Dynamite, right, Gav?” Gavin smiled faintly but the terror didn’t leave his eyes. Another explosion shook the ground and Michael hissed out a breath between his teeth. Michael thought the gunfire was growing louder, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. He felt dizzy, his head was light and fuzzy, and his hearing wasn’t clear anymore. It was disorienting.

Geoff threw himself down on the ground, staring at the injury Gavin covered and the blood Michael could feel warming his chest and neck. “Fuck,” Geoff swore, spinning around to Joel and grabbing a set of keys off of him. He unlocked one side of Gavin’s cuffs, leaving the other dangling from his wrist. “We gotta move him, Gavin. Quickly, while Ryan distracts the cops.”

Gavin nodded quickly, shifting around above Michael so that he could grab Michael’s arms. Geoff grabbed his legs and when they lifted him, Michael’s vision flashed white, then red, and then became tunneled. A small, involuntary groan escaped his lips.

Geoff and Gavin moved him into the front of the pickup and Gavin sat down, laying Michael’s head on his lap, still holding the injury. “Ryan, we’re gone. And get rid of Gavin’s moving van while you’re at it,” Geoff said, his voice growing more distant. Michael’s vision dimmed significantly and he closed his eyes. Then everything just stopped.


	15. Guilty Conscience

Geoff pulled off the road as soon as he could, bunkering down in a nearly empty level of a parking garage. It had actually taken very little time to clear the cops, and Geoff supposed he had Ryan to thank for that. Ryan had gone a little crazy with the bazooka, blowing up three storage units, Gavin’s moving van, and the entrance of the complex, most of which Geoff would have to fix or replace. Their own unit blew up as well, like they’d planned, and Geoff was pretty sure that only happened because either he or Ryan had run over Michael’s transmitter.

But all the fire and explosives had certainly injured or distracted the cops and gotten them off Geoff’s back, which was all he needed.

Michael had fallen unconscious, spread across the seats with his legs on Geoff’s lap and his head on Gavin’s. His breathing was strained and raspy, and Geoff feared the bullet had punctured a lung, but the fact that he was breathing at all gave Geoff some relief. The bullet had gone too high to hit his heart and had missed any major arteries, but Geoff was afraid of there still being significant damage.

“Is Michael okay? Guys? What’s happening?” Ray demanded over the coms, his voice rising in near-hysteria.

“He’s still bleeding so much,” Gavin muttered shakily. His hands were stained red, still pressed firmly over the injury. More blood coated Michael’s jacket, his neck, and Gavin’s lap. Something important must have been hit for him to be bleeding that much. Or maybe chest wounds just bled a lot.

“Meet us on the fourth floor of the bank’s parking garage,” Geoff said, his own voice shaking and cracking from stress and adrenaline. “Let’s get him out of the car, Gavin. It’s too cramped in here.” Gavin nodded and the two of them pulled Michael from the truck as carefully as they could, settling him against Gavin on the ground. “Help me with his jacket.”

Gavin helped as best he could, keeping one hand over the wound. His body was shaking and he was almost as pale as Michael, staring down at him with wide eyes. He was babbling out comforting words and apologies, even though Michael couldn’t hear him. Seeing Gavin like this only made Geoff feel worse. As they worked to remove the jacket, Geoff noticed Gavin was being very delicate with one of his hands, and Geoff was pretty sure he saw a hole in Gavin’s shirt sleeve, above his wrist. It was difficult to tell with the blood that coated his shirt, but Geoff was nearly positive that Gavin had gotten injured as well.

The two moving trucks pulled up as Geoff and Gavin finally managed to remove Michael’s jacket. Ray jumped out of one of the trucks before Jack had fully stopped, stumbling as he hit the ground. He rushed over, dropping down beside Geoff and staring at Michael, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Small cuts covered his face, little dribbles of blood trailing down his cheeks, and Geoff noticed the moving van’s windshield had been shot out.

“What happened to him?” Ray asked quietly, looking desperately between Geoff and Gavin.

“It’s all my bloody fault,” Gavin mumbled. “He got hurt trying to save me. If I’d just been paying attention, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Does anyone have a knife on them?” Geoff asked, patting at his pockets but not finding one. Ryan stepped up behind him and wordlessly offered the hilt of a knife. Geoff took it with a nod of thanks and Ryan backed away again, limping heavily and leaving bloody footprints each time he lifted his right foot. His silence was unnerving and Geoff shuddered, instead choosing to focus on the immediate problem.

“It’s not your fault, Gavin,” Jack said, watching Geoff cut Michael’s shirt away from the wound. Jack himself had similar injuries to Ray from the glass flying into the truck.

Geoff practically had to force Gavin’s hand away to peel Michael’s shirt back and Jack continued speaking. “You can’t have known this was going to happen,” Jack pointed out.

“But that’s my job!” Gavin cried, looking up at Jack, and he looked like he was about to cry. “I’m supposed to know what’s going on, and keep anyone from getting hurt, and I bollocks’ed it!”

Ryan moved around Geoff, stopping beside Gavin and clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s go over there and let them work,” he said, gesturing to an empty section of the parking garage.

Geoff smiled weakly at Ryan, nodding. “Go ahead, Gavin. Ray can take your place. Jack, can you get our extra supplies from one of the trucks?” he said. Gavin hesitated and then slowly shifted out from beneath Michael. Ray slid into Gavin’s spot, supporting Michael’s head, as Jack went back to the trucks and Ryan and Gavin wandered away, talking quietly. Geoff worked to block out their conversation, writing it off as a distraction.

“Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital? He doesn’t look very good…” Ray said nervously, covering the injury with one hand and rubbing his own chest with the other.

“No, we can’t,” Geoff said as Jack came back with a cardboard box full of excess medical supplies they had packed up years ago. Before expanding the crew, and jumping into more dangerous ventures, they hadn’t needed all the first aid equipment as much. “Hospitals are obligated to report all gunshot wounds. The cops would be on us all quick as dicks. Sure, they’d help Michael, but all of us would end up in a fucking maximum security prison.”

“Did the bullet go straight through?” Jack asked, pulling out items from the box.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think so,” Ray said, pushing Michael upright a little so he could see his friend’s back. “God. There’s so much blood… Are you sure he’ll be okay?”

Jack splashed disinfectant on the wound and the edges started to bubble. “He’s still breathing, and his pulse is a little weak but not frightening low. I just worry about complications. It sounds like the bullet went through one of his lungs. We’ll have to keep a close eye on him for a while,” Jack said, quickly working as he spoke.

Gauze pads were taped over each bullet hole, entry and exit, and then Jack bound Michael’s shoulder with bandages. Geoff helped him form a makeshift sling out of the rest of the bandages, sliding Michael’s arm into it to try and keep it from moving much.

“I want to take a closer look at it when we’re safely home,” Jack said, grimacing at the rough bandages.

Geoff nodded, looking around at their little convoy. Ryan and Gavin had fallen silent, but Geoff could see them a few feet away, next to one of the garage’s window openings. Gavin had his arms crossed on the windowsill, face buried in his sleeves, and Ryan’s hand rested on his shoulder. Ryan himself stared out the window at the city, unmoving. Ray stared down at Michael, biting his lip, and fingers brushing gently over the bandages. It was probably good to give the lads something else to focus on.

“Gav, Ryan, why don’t you two take one of the trucks to Jeremy’s,” Geoff suggested, and the two of them turned to look at him. “Get the pickup, Jack. Ray, can you drive the other moving truck?”

“But…what about Michael?” Ray asked nervously.

“I’ll stay here with him. I don’t want to move him more than I have to. It could make it worse,” Geoff pointed out, glancing up at Jack in search of support. “You, Gavin, and Ryan head back once you’re done at Jeremy’s. Jack will come get me and Michael.”

Gavin frowned, wringing his shirt between his hands. “But what if someone sees you up here?” he asked.

“Hey, I’m still conscious,” Geoff protested. “I even have a gun! We’ll be fine. But you all should go before the cops start putting up road blocks.”

“True. Come on, guys, let’s head out,” Jack said, tossing his keys to Ray. “Trust Geoff.” Geoff smiled and nodded at Jack, shifting positions so he could take Ray’s spot supporting Michael. Ray stood up and hesitated, gripping the keys tightly and staring at Michael. Jack grabbed his shoulder, squeezed, and gently propelled Ray toward one of the trucks. Ryan had already gotten Gavin in the other and he nodded once to Geoff before he pulled out.

Within a minute, Geoff and Michael were left alone, and guilt twisted Geoff’s belly as he looked down at the unconscious lad. He shouldn’t have let Michael go alone. Someone should have gone with him. Sure, Gavin had needed help, and without being ready in a vehicle no one would have kept up with Michael, but those thoughts didn’t make Geoff feel much better.

He was the leader of the crew. It was his job to keep everyone safe, and if someone did get injured, it was all because of his dumbass decisions. Geoff knew Gavin wouldn’t be able to help much, which was why Gavin had been camped out further away. And he knew Michael got very single-minded when he went to do something, and he wasn’t great at paying attention. Yet Geoff had figured it would work out well enough, and he had quickly been proven wrong.

Of course, they’d had injuries in the crew already. Gavin had a scar on his side from the bullet graze a couple months ago, and he currently had a hole in his arm. Jack and Ray had minor cuts. Ryan had the marks from his gunshot wound and subsequent surgery to add to his collection, and another hole in his foot. Michael had a thin scar on his arm from the Corpirate’s mansion. Geoff himself had an open wound on his arm, where a bullet had grazed him in the firefight. Not to mention all the bumps, bruises, and scrapes that had long since healed on everyone. But none of those injuries had been this severe.

Jack had left the box of medical supplies behind and Geoff pulled it closer, working on quickly fixing up his graze. He sure as hell hoped that everyone else saw to their own injuries, since no one had come out of there unscathed, and everyone needed attention.

As soon as Geoff had bandaged his arm, he balled up his own, less bloody jacket and put it beneath Michael’s head, looking him over to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. He was still scarily pale, and without the help of a blood transfusion, he’d be down and recuperating for a while. It took a long ass time to get that much blood back. His shoulder and arm were a little scraped up, but what few cuts he’d sustained there had already stopped bleeding. They’d be fully healed in a couple of days.

Geoff carefully maneuvered out from underneath Michael, moving around the explosives expert to make sure he’d caught all the problems. With so much blood everywhere, it was difficult to tell if there were any other injuries, and he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

The only other thing Geoff noticed was Michael’s leg. His right leg bent strangely beneath the knee, and when Geoff rolled up his pant leg, he found a massive collection of growing bruises among the swollen, warped skin. It looked broken and Geoff winced. Michael really had taken a bit of a beating, and it would take a lot of time for him to fully recover. Even if he did wake up any time soon, he wouldn’t be able to walk, and moving his arm would hurt like a bitch. Poor kid didn’t deserve all that.

The conversation among the rest of the crew was relatively minimal. Gavin and Ray kept asking how Michael was doing, to which Geoff kept replying, “About the same as he was thirty fucking seconds ago.” At least, until he got fed up with it, and snapped at them to let him fucking deal with it, and they should be focusing on getting rid of their shit. Jack spoke briefly to Jeremy, but they had set up storage with him a while ago, so the conversation didn’t last long. Normally, Jack would have gotten off-topic and started chatting with Jeremy for a while, but Geoff supposed the recent events had dampened his normally chipper mood, because they were in and out with few unnecessary words spoken.

It was almost an hour after everyone left when Jack pulled up again with the jeep. He hopped out, looking down at Michael and running a hand through his hair. “How is he?” he asked, and Geoff expected the lads to pipe up with their own questions and concerns, but he heard nothing through the coms. Jack had asked that Ryan make sure the lads take their earpieces out earlier, but Geoff hadn’t been sure if that would actually happen.

“Not too much different. I think he’ll be okay… Uh, his breathing is still shit,” Geoff said, brushing Michael’s curls out of his face absently. “Think he broke his leg, too. He won’t be up and moving for a few weeks like this.” Geoff paused, looking down at the ground, and he asked quietly, “Do you…do you think that I made the right call? Sending him out on his own like that?”

Jack squatted down, leaning to the side until Geoff could see his face out of the corner of his eye. “Geoff. Look at me,” he said sternly, and Geoff looked up slowly, swallowing down a lump in his throat. “Like we told Gavin, you couldn’t have known this would happen. Michael knew what he was getting into; we all did when we agreed to be a part of this crew. It’s not your fault, it’s not Gavin’s fault, it’s not Michael’s fault; it’s no one’s fault but the asshole who shot him down. And we will make this right, but there’s nothing we can do right now. Beating yourself up over it isn’t going to make him heal faster.”

Geoff shrugged, twirling the ends of his mustache between his fingers. “I guess,” he muttered.

“Look, you did what you thought was right at the time,” Jack said calmly. “No one can fault you for that, and if they do, I’ll shoot them down myself. And right now, we need our boss. The lads are about to have a breakdown if they don’t hear that Michael is going to be okay, and they’re only going to freak out more if you’re acting like this. So being upset is fine, but you’ve got to let up on yourself. For their sakes.”

Geoff was silent for a moment, mulling over Jack’s words, and then he nodded, slowly at first and then more strongly as what Jack said sank in. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right, Jack. Thanks,” he said, smiling quickly at his friend. Jack returned the smile, until he looked back down at Michael, and it slowly faded. “Come on, let’s get him back home. He needs real care, and rest.”

The two of them carefully maneuvered Michael into the backseat of the jeep, with Geoff, and Jack drove back to Michael and Ray’s apartment. The entire time, Geoff was making sure nothing like bumps or sharp turns hurt Michael further, while hoping that he really would come out of this okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again, thanks for all the support by way of comments and kudos! Glad you all are enjoying this as much as I am. :)


	16. Above Suspicion

Ray was waiting impatiently for the jeep to pull up behind the house. Ryan had suggested he find something to do while he waited, so Ray had booted up his Pokémon game and hopped up on the kitchen counter. But he spent far more time staring out into the back lot than he did looking at his game, and Ray didn’t even notice when he little red light on his DS started flashing and warning about its low battery.

It was too quiet in the house and it made Ray antsy. Jack had insisted they remove their earpieces after Geoff snapped at them, and Ryan had put the coms away as soon as they were back. Gavin hadn’t spoken since they’d pulled up to the house, and he had immediately gone off to take a shower. The water was still running, forty-five minutes later. Ryan had taken a little bit of time to deal with the bullet hole in his foot and was now wandering around with one socked foot and one bandaged while he worked on cleaning the bloody footprints he’d left behind.

Finally, when Ray was about to go hunt down the coms so he could ask what the hell was going on, he heard the crunching of dirt beneath large tires. He snapped his dying DS closed and hopped down from the counter, wrenching the back door open.

Jack stepped out of the jeep and pulled Michael out of the back seat, carrying him like a child. Geoff climbed out and closed the car door sharply. “Ray, grab the first aid kit and bring it to Michael’s room,” Geoff said. Ray nodded absently, staring at Michael. His friend almost looked dead, slumped in Jack’s arms and pale as a ghost. It didn’t feel right, seeing Michael like that.

Geoff stepped up in front of Ray, grabbing Ray’s shoulders and blocking his view of Michael. “Hey, he’s doing fine. It’ll take some time, but he should heal. We just need to make sure he’ll heal as quickly as possible. So we need that first aid kit,” he said calmly but firmly and Ray nodded again, turning away from the lot as Geoff’s hands fell from his shoulders.

Ray grabbed the first aid kit from beneath the sink and brought it to Michael’s room like Geoff had asked. The room was a horrible mess, worse than usual after Geoff and Jack had been living there for a month, but Jack had cleared a path to the bed. Michael lay on top of the blankets, chest rising and falling in time with his raspy breaths, and Jack was beside him looking at a potentially broken leg.

“Thanks, Ray,” Jack said, taking the first aid kit with a weak smile. “I’ll get Michael fixed up fine. Couple weeks and it’ll be like nothing ever happened,” he assured.

“I want to stay with him. Make sure he’s okay,” Ray insisted, practically pleading. He didn’t want to leave his friend alone, and when Michael woke up, Ray wanted to be right there.

Jack looked at him, eyes soft and sympathetic, and he nodded. “No problem,” he said gently. “Just let me clean him up, and Geoff wanted to talk to all of you. But I think it’d be good for you to be here for Michael after that.”

“What’s Geoff wanna talk about?” Ray asked, glancing at the door over his shoulder. The water had finally stopped running, and he could hear Geoff talking quietly.

“We have a bit of a problem we need to figure out and he wants to bring it up to you guys,” Jack answered, forcing Michael’s leg back into its normal position with a pop and a crack that made Ray wince. He’d never broken a bone himself, and those sounds alone made him want to avoid the situation even more. “He’s in the living room.”

Ray backed out of the room as Jack started tightly binding Michael’s leg. Everyone else was already in the living room. Ryan sprawled leisurely on the couch, his injured foot popped up on the rolling computer chair. Gavin sat beside him, dressed in clean clothes and with slightly drippy hair. Geoff leaned against one of the walls, arms crossed over his chest, and Ray took a look around and then settled on the floor. He felt a little like a small child at school, but he just wanted to sit after the day’s events.

“So, Jack and I realized we have a problem,” Geoff started, looking between the three in front of him. “it seems like the Corpirate somehow knows more of what we’ve been up to than he should. He found the old place, and he knew we were moving in on the storage shed a day early. No one should have been able to figure out either of those.”

“Do you think someone’s telling him?” Ray asked, and he immediately looked over at Ryan, though he wasn’t the only one. Geoff and Gavin followed his gaze and Ryan snorted beneath his mask, crossing his arms over his chest. Ray wasn’t sure if he really believed Ryan would do something like that, but he seemed like the most likely choice.

“Why are you all looking at _me_?” he demanded, looking at each of them in turn. His eyes were narrowed, and with the skull mask, he looked beyond pissed. Ray looked away quickly, picking at threads in the carpet.

“Because you’re still the wild card. We barely know anything about you even after a month,” Geoff pointed out with a scowl. Glancing up at him, Ray realized Geoff hadn’t washed Michael’s blood from his hands, and the skin was stained red.

Ryan shook his head and when he spoke, his words were tight and clipped. “I’m not the only one here, Geoff. Each of the lads has been in and out all month, often without notice. Gavin is on the computer day and night, and even if you want to continue believing _anyone else_ above suspicion, there’s the possibility that no one in the crew has done anything. The place could be bugged, or Gavin’s system could have been hacked. It’s not necessarily any one of our faults,” Ryan said, eyes locked on Geoff, his voice growing more heated as he spoke.

“He’s right,” Gavin said, breaking the brief, tense silence that stretched between them. Ryan whipped his head around to look at Gavin, and Ray thought he might have been surprised. Ray certainly was. He knew Gavin liked being around Ryan, for who knew what reason, but Ray hadn’t expected him to speak up. Especially not after his strangely long silence. “There are loads of other ways they could have figured it out. I can sweep for bugs and see if I find anything out of place on my computers. It would’ve been tough to get into my system, but it’s never impossible.”

Geoff frowned and then nodded. “Take a look. We need to figure this out yesterday,” he said, and Gavin pushed himself up from the couch, moving over to the computer and booting it up. “Just everyone keep an eye out for each other. We don’t know what’s going on, and it’s gotten dangerous.”

“Fucking with the Corpirate has already been dangerous,” Ryan scoffed, sprawling across the couch in order to snatch up the remote without moving his leg from the chair. Gavin seemed to have forgotten Ryan was using it and he spun in a circle for a moment at the desk, frowning. “Sorry, did you need this?” Ryan moved his foot from the chair, propping it up on the couch as Gavin looked around.

“Oh, yeah,” Gavin said with a small smile, grabbing the chair and dragging it over. “Thanks, Ryebread.”

“Ryebread?” Ryan and Ray asked at the same time, both of their tones confused. They exchanged glances and Ray smiled. “Jinx,” Ray declared.

“Yeah, Ryebread. It sounds cool,” Gavin said, his back to them as he started working on his computer. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and things were popping up so fast that Ray wasn’t sure if Gavin could even read what he saw.

Jack wandered back into the living room, first aid kit in hand and stripping off a pair of blood-spotted gloves. Ray’s smile faded and he scrambled up, eyeing Jack’s gloves worriedly. “Is Michael okay?” he asked urgently.

“Yeah, he’s fine. I need to make a call and get an IV set-up for him, especially because he’s going to be out for a while. And we’ll have to make sure his breathing doesn’t get any worse, or else there might be a problem with his lungs. But if all goes well, he should heal up just fine. Scarred, but fine,” Jack said with a tired smile, pushing his glasses up his nose with his forearm. “Geoff, wanna help me figure out food?”

“Sure. As long as you aren’t actually expecting real help,” Geoff said, following Jack into the kitchen. Ray left Gavin to his computers and Ryan to his television shows, and he went back to Michael’s bedroom to check on his friend.

Michael laid exactly where Ray had left him, still unconscious. Jack had tucked a couple towels beneath his shoulder, and they were stained with his blood, but the blankets weren’t. Michael’s shoulder was more properly bandaged, and his leg was bound with a makeshift splint, since they didn’t have the plaster strips for a cast. His chest had been cleaned up, and Jack had changed him into pajama shorts. The bandages across his chest weren’t as bloody as Ray had expected, and he figured Jack must have stitched up the injury.

Ray hovered next to the bed for a moment, listening to his friend’s wet, raspy breathing. After a moment, Ray knelt down beside him. He pulled the bloody towel out from under Michael carefully, and then covered him with his blankets. Like that, he almost looked like he was sleeping, but his skin was so pale that it didn’t look quite right.

Letting out a heavy breath, Ray settled on the ground with his back to the bed, close enough that if Michael woke up by some chance, Ray would be close enough to touch. He pulled his DS out of his hoodie pocket, scrounged up a nearby charger, and continued his game. He had a lot of time to kill, and he wanted to do it at his friend’s side.

The next few days passed uneventfully, but Ray found the wait extremely stressful. Jack managed to get an IV bag, tube, needle, and a standing hook for the bag to hang from. They made sure Michael got everything he needed through that. People came in and out to check on Ray, to bring him food, to make sure Michael was doing okay, but Ray rarely left. The only time he got up was to go to the bathroom, and every time he did, he hurried to get back to his friend’s side. He didn’t want Michael to wake up alone.

On the plus side, Michael’s breathing didn’t worsen and instead, slowly got better. Jack promised that it meant that, even though his lung was damaged, it was healing properly on its own. He was extremely lucky. Michael started to get a little more color to his face as the days wore on and his body slowly regenerated the lost blood. It made Ray feel a lot better.

It was four days later, just as Ray was dozing off while playing his DS, when someone gently touched his shoulder. Ray’s eyes snapped open and he lurched upright, his DS falling from his hands as he spun around. “Michael,” he blurted, a grin breaking across his face.

“You were falling asleep again,” Michael murmured, his eyes barely open and the smallest of smiles on his face. Ray let out a weak laugh and ran a hand through his hair.

“Fuck… You’re awake. Are…are you…how do you feel?” Ray asked.

“Like shit,” Michael said, his hand moving slowly up to his chest, wincing. “Is this how you felt when you got shot?”

“I imagine it’s about the same, yeah. But you told me it wasn’t that bad and to grow a pair,” Ray pointed out. Michael scoffed and then flinched, fingers tightening on his blankets.

“Ow. Fuck. I take that back. It is that fucking bad,” Michael said. He blinked, his eyes opening a little more, and he looked around. “Thought Jack and Geoff were using my room.”

Ray shrugged, glancing around the room as well. His blankets were bundled up beside the bed, and a pile of trash and dishes had accumulated close by. “I guess they thought you’d be more comfortable in your room,” he said. “Let me go get Jack. So he can check on you.”

Ray pushed himself to his feet, rushing out into the living room. Gavin was at the desk, working through something on his computer with a frown. He had discovered two bugs in the house, though no one was entirely sure how they had gotten there. Someone had also hacked into his system, despite the improbability, and he’d been working on strengthening his security.

Ryan was reading on the couch, masked as always, and his foot propped up on the cushions. He was starting to walk a little better, but his bullet wound hadn’t fully healed yet. Geoff had left recently for more food, risking being seen since none of the lads was available to go, and Jack was playing Trials from the floor.

“Jack, I need you,” Ray said, and Jack looked up, concerned. “Michael’s awake.”

“What?” Gavin screeched, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste to get up. Ryan sat up, setting his book aside, and Jack immediately shut down his game.

Gavin took off down the hall like a shot, and Ray followed close behind. Michael was prodding at the IV line, frowning, but he looked around when Gavin charged into the room and leaped onto the edge of the bed. The jump must have jostled Michael’s leg, because all the color drained from Michael’s face and he shouted.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, boi. Did I hurt you? Are you okay? How do you feel?” Gavin asked frantically, attention flicking to Michael’s leg, his chest, his face, and away again.

“Don’t hurt him, Gavin,” Jack admonished, pushing past Ray to get into the room. Ray shuffled back over to Michael’s side, out of the way. “Get off the bed; four days isn’t enough time for a broken leg to heal.”

“Broken leg? What the fuck? I thought I just got shot,” Michael said, starting to push himself upright to look down at his leg. He barely got himself above the pillow before he let out a breathless gasp and fell back.

Jack scowled, stepping up to Michael’s other side, a hand pressed to his shoulder. “Stop moving. You’re just making it worse. Let me take a look,” he said. Jack pulled back the bandages to take a look at the bullet wound, glancing at Gavin out of the corner of his eye. “Gavin, _get off the bed_.”

Gavin climbed down from the bed but hovered over Michael, practically vibrating with excitement. Ryan leaned against the doorframe, being careful of his injured foot.

After a moment, Jack stepped back with a nod and a smile. “You’re healing up alright. You’ll be fine after a while. Glad you’re awake, though,” he said, patting Michael on the shoulder.

“Me, too. But I’m tired. I want to go back to sleep,” Michael muttered, closing his eyes again and relaxing into his mattress.

“No problem. Gavin, Ryan, get out of here,” Jack said, waving his hands to shoo the two of them away.

“Good to see you awake,” Ryan said as he pushed himself off the doorframe and limped back into the living room. Michael raised his hand in acknowledgement.

“But why doesn’t Ray have to leave?” Gavin whined. He was practically being pushed out of the room by Jack, a pout on his face.

“Because I’m just that awesome. And it’s my house,” Ray said, settling down by Michael’s side again and grabbing his DS. Gavin let out a wordless shout of protest, but Jack forced him through the door.

“Ray’s fine here. You have something you need to be working on,” Jack said, steering Gavin back into the living room. “Get some rest, Michael. You’ve got all the time you need to heal up,” he called over his shoulder.

Michael let out a tired grunt, and Ray could tell he was already mostly asleep. Ray glanced back at his friend and smiled, happiness and relief coursing through him. At least Michael’s health was one last thing they had to worry about now.


	17. Shit Hits the Fan

Geoff sat in the living room, absently tapping buttons on the Xbox controller and staring blankly at the game on the screen. It was quiet and a little hazy, though Geoff blamed his poor vision on the alcohol. It tended to happen when he drank too much, and he’d gotten used to the fuzzy edges on everything.

By now, Geoff wasn’t sure what was happening in his game, but he continued playing anyway, pressing buttons without knowing exactly what they did. Geoff’s thumb jammed down on a button and a gunshot rang out, a loud crack coming from down the hall. Everything went back to perfect silence directly afterward and Geoff scrambled to his feet, rushing down the hall.

“Michael?” Geoff called urgently, slamming open Michael’s bedroom door and charging onto the pavement beyond. Sound sprang up suddenly, but it was muffled, like there was something covering his ears. Shouts and gunfire rumbled quietly in the background, and Geoff couldn’t see where it was coming from through the thick white fog around him.

Geoff rounded the corner of the moving van he had stepped out of, stopping in a small, circular section that was clear of fog. Two people lay on the hard ground, and when Geoff started to move toward them, his shoes stuck in a rapidly spreading pool of blood, until the blood became so thick and flowed so quickly that Geoff had to abandon his shoes in the red river.

His breathing came faster as he pushed his way to the two unmoving bodies, until Geoff was panting heavily. He fell to his knees beside the two and Geoff stared down at them, silently shocked. Michael and Gavin both laid in the pool of blood, eyes open and glassy. Michael laid over Gavin, as if protecting him, but his efforts hadn’t worked.

A man stood at Geoff’s side, partially concealed by swirling mists except for the gun held at his side. The white mist pooled out of the gun’s barrel but it didn’t appear to have any effect on Geoff.

Gritting his teeth in a snarl, Geoff grabbed his gun up from the ground, rounding on the shooter, but the man was gone. Geoff surged to his feet, ready to charge into the thick fog in pursuit, but fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle, stopping him in his tracks. Looking down, Geoff met Michael’s eyes, now hardened and narrowed accusingly. He kept a firm grip on Geoff’s leg, his fingers digging painfully into Geoff’s skin like needles.

“You did this. It’s all your fault,” Michael spat, blood bubbling up from his mouth and running down his chin.

“I’m sorry, Michael!” Geoff cried, his voice cracking. “Holy fuck, I – I didn’t… I never meant…” The words trailed off and he could only stand and stare, unable to properly speak.

Gavin turned his head to look at Geoff, but he didn’t look angry, not like Michael. He actually looked concerned, and when he spoke, it wasn’t to add accusations. Instead, he just insisted, “Geoff, wake up. Geoff. _Geoff_ , wake _up_.”

And then the scene exploded and Geoff lurched upright in bed with a shout, smacking a hand away from his leg. Geoff gasped for breath, the blanket clenched tightly in his fists, and he stared down at the bed as he tried to compose himself. It had just been a dream. A really fucked-up dream, but it hadn’t been real. Geoff was in Ray’s bed, clutching his Pokémon comforter, and not at the storage complex. Michael had been awake and well for a week, and Gavin was far from dead. It was all fine.

But that didn’t mean it hadn’t been scary as dicks.

When Geoff looked up again, the first thing he saw was Jack, crouched beside the bed and his hand resting on the blankets beside Geoff’s leg. Jack looked concerned, biting his lip and staring intently at Geoff’s face. It seemed as if he had just woken up, since his hair stuck out wildly and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Ryan stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and Geoff thought his eyes looked softer than normal behind the mask but it was difficult to tell.

“You were yelling in your sleep. Are you okay?” Jack asked worriedly. Geoff nodded, raking a hand through his hair and turning to the nightstand. Bottles covered the surface and the glass clinked together as Geoff searched through the collection.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just a freaky-ass nightmare,” Geoff muttered, grabbing the bottle he’d been drinking from the night before and scooting backward so his back was pressed against the wall. “I didn’t wake up the lads, did I?”

Ryan shook his head. “Michael and Ray probably couldn’t hear much through the doors, and Gavin just laid down after another forty-eight hour stretch. He’s out cold,” he said. Geoff nodded slowly and took a drink, the hard alcohol burning his throat pleasantly. Now that he was awake, Geoff noticed the same fuzziness to his vision he’d noticed at the start of his dream, and his head hurt. But more alcohol tended to help with it, so he took another drink. “I don’t think whisky helps the nightmares,” Ryan stated dryly.

“Fuck off,” Geoff griped, holding his bottle close. He paused for a moment and then asked slowly, feeling a little silly for even mentioning it, “Michael is… Is Michael still doing okay? And…and Gavin?”

“Gavin?” Ryan asked, and his words were so calm and neutral that Geoff couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Why wouldn’t Gavin be okay?”

“They’re fine, Geoff,” Jack said, putting his hand back gently on Geoff’s leg. “Just like when you went to bed. Michael’s getting better every day, and Gavin’s main worry at this point is needing his stomach pumped if he insists on drinking so much Red Bull.” Jack smiled, squeezing Geoff’s leg briefly, and his grip was so similar to dream-Michael’s that Geoff stiffened. “Everyone’s okay.”

Geoff let out a breath, relaxing slightly. He had been pretty damn sure nothing had changed, but after that bullshit dream, he’d needed to know for sure.

Before he could say anything in reply, his phone started ringing from the floor and Geoff frowned. He leaned over the side of the bed and snatched his phone up, disconnecting it from its charger, and swiped the glowing icon to answer the call. “Hello?” he said, a little confused. Geoff didn’t often get calls in the middle of the night.

“Oh, thank god. I was worried you would be asleep. It’s Caleb,” the person on the other end said, tripping over his words in his haste. Geoff immediately sat up straight and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to force himself to sober up enough that his head stopped swimming. Caleb was very clearly upset, and it was not a time to be loopy drunk.

“Caleb, is everything okay?” Geoff demanded, and Jack stared at him for a moment before his eyes widened and he dove for his glasses. Ryan looked between the two of them, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Holy fuck, I…Geoff, I need you guys down here. It’s bad. It’s so bad,” Caleb said, and he was starting to babble. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself more than to Geoff.

Geoff frowned and climbed out of bed, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he scrounged up his clothes. “Dude, calm down. I’ll be there. What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, trying to speak as calmly yet forcefully as he could over Caleb’s chattering.

“It’s…fucking hell,” Caleb said, then the phone erupted into static as he let out a heavy breath. “It’s all gone, Geoff. Everything. All of my weapons and ammo and I think they used my own damn explosives to light the place up! All of it’s just…there’s so much fire. I…I don’t think anything that made it out of there can still be used.”

“Are you okay?” Geoff asked worriedly, tripping and falling onto the bed as he attempted to pull his pants on. As he was speaking, Jack’s phone started trilling sharply, and he answered it with a quick glance at the name and a concerned frown.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good. I was heading out when it blew. I saw it in my rearview mirror and oh, fuck, the cops are gonna be down here soon,” Caleb said, groaning into the phone. Next to Geoff, Jack was continuing his own conversation, and his face had paled considerably beneath his beard. Whatever he was hearing definitely wasn’t good.

“Okay. Get somewhere safe and call me back. We’re coming to help. Don’t get got, and don’t you fucking dare go after anyone yourself. I’ll get the crew,” Geoff ordered, grabbing his shirt and throwing it over his shoulders quickly.

“Okay. I…I’ll call you soon,” Caleb said, and then the line went dead as he hung up. Jack hung up his phone at roughly the same time and he looked frightened.

“Ryan, wake Gav and Ray. Get them in the living room _now_. We gotta go,” Geoff barked, glancing at Ryan over his shoulder. Ryan nodded once and moved out of the doorway, disappearing down the hall. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

Jack shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Kerry. He…he got caught in a drive-by. Tore his house to pieces, and he’s apparently not doing so hot. He’s getting away from there and I said I’d meet up with him,” Jack said, handing Geoff his jacket.

“Fuck. Caleb and Kerry? What fucking next?” Geoff demanded, throwing his jacket on. He glanced at his phone, just to make sure nothing else was going on, and an icon at the top lit up announcing he had a new voice mail. “Well, fuck. This had better be a fucking pocket dial or some shit. Go get what you need to see to Kerry, and make sure the others are ready to go. I’ll be right there.”

Jack nodded and left the room, letting Geoff check his voice mail. The little automated voice happily asked him to enter his password and he huffed, doing so, and then impatiently tried to rush it past the old messages. A moment later, it announced a new message, and Geoff listened with bated breath.

“Hey, Geoff. It’s Jeremy. I, uh, I…I think I fucked up,” the message said, and Geoff groaned, letting his head fall into his hand. “That unit I let you guys use? It’s blown. It’s been fucking destroyed, and everything’s gone. I didn’t think this would happen. Um…call me back, I guess?”

Geoff swore loudly, standing up and shoving his phone into his pocket violently. Of fucking course! It couldn’t just be one problem. It had to be all of the problems at once. And how the fuck had all of this happened within the same five minutes? It just didn’t seem like a coincidence.

When Geoff stomped into the living room, he found Ryan and Jack waiting near the kitchen, ready to go. And all three of the lads had grouped in the room as well. Gavin sat on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows and blinking sleepily up at Geoff, a blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape. Ray looked just about as tired, his glasses dangling from one hand as he rubbed at his eyes. Michael was the only one who looked semi-alert in the lads, and the only one Geoff hadn’t wanted to come. He sat on the arm of the couch, crutches leaning against his healthy leg, and one hand pressed to his chest.

“What was that?” Jack asked, and Geoff sighed, shaking his head.

“We’re splitting up,” Geoff declared, looking at everyone. “We need to be three places at once, and we need to be there two hours ago. Gavin, I need you to go to Jeremy’s. Our fucking storage shed was blown and looted. Go through the cameras, figure out what the fuck happened and who we have to kill. Ryan, go with him. Make sure he and Jeremy are okay.”

Ryan nodded and Gavin frowned, shaking his head quickly to wake himself.

“Okay, Ray, you’re with me. We’re going to find Caleb. He’s gonna call me here soon, and we’re gonna figure out who the fuck blew up his shit,” Geoff said, getting a tired thumbs-up from the sniper. “Jack, go get Kerry and make sure he doesn’t fucking die.”

“What about me?” Michael asked. His voice was stronger, but there was a little bit of a raspy wheeze to each breath as his lung slowly healed. And he could move, admittedly slowly and with help, but Geoff didn’t want him out there. Not with someone targeting all of their contacts. It was dangerous.

“You’re staying here. You’re in no shape to go anywhere,” Geoff said, grabbing his shoes and throwing them on.

Michael scowled, pushing himself to his feet and shoving his crutches under his arms. He winced as the movement pulled at the injury in his chest. “No. I’m going with you. I’m not fucking waiting here for you assholes to get back,” he said angrily.

Geoff growled, throwing his hands up in the air. “Look, we don’t have time to argue this, Michael! Dammit, Kerry could be dying!” he snapped.

“Geoff, he can come with me. I’ll make sure he’s alright. And I don’t know how much Kerry got hurt. I might need help,” Jack interrupted, putting a hand on Geoff’s shoulder.

Geoff scowled at him but nodded after a moment, accepting it. He didn’t want to argue. “Fine. I don’t fucking care at this point. Everyone get your asses in gear and let’s go. No delays.”

The crew got up and moving as quickly as they could. Michael told Jack where to find the keys to his precious chrome car, Ryan snatched Gavin’s keys out of his hand when Gavin tried to walk out the door half-asleep and without shoes, and Jack threw Geoff the jeep’s keys as he pulled the box of earpieces from a kitchen drawer. Geoff flipped open the case and grabbed his com, jamming it in his ear as he left.

“Stay in touch. And I swear to god, if any of you gets hurt or dies, I’m going to kill you myself,” Geoff said over his shoulder. Ray trotted in his wake, and Geoff was glad that the back of the jeep held an arsenal, because he was pretty sure he was going to need it.


	18. Team Love'n'Stuff

Ryan had no idea how Gavin managed to drive his tiny purple car. The two of them were nearly the same height, and yet Ryan felt squished and uncomfortable in the driver’s seat, with his knees hitting the dashboard and the steering wheel way too close to his chest. An inch or two shouldn’t have made that much difference.

Gavin seemed perfectly fine in the passenger seat, though he looked like he was starting to doze off. Ryan didn’t exactly blame him. He’d only slept for maybe half an hour in the last forty-eight hours, and that wasn’t nearly enough time for anyone to feel fully rested. And yet it wasn’t an excuse. They needed him to be capable of working.

“Hey, wake up,” Ryan said as he pulled out of the dirt lot, smacking Gavin’s arm with the back of his hand. The one good thing he would say about Gavin’s car was that it was easy to maneuver since it was so small, and he poured on the gas as soon as he was clear of the house.

“Ow. That hurt, Ryan,” Gavin complained, rubbing at his arm, and Ryan snorted. He doubted it had hurt that much. “And I am awake.”

“You better be,” Geoff said through the coms, and Ryan’s mask gave the sound a strange, buzzing quality to it. “We need to – oh, hold up. Hello?” Ryan tuned out Geoff’s phone conversation as he tried to figure out where Caleb was, in lieu of making sure the tiny car didn’t crash. It really wasn’t too difficult a feat, to be honest. It was roughly three in the morning, so traffic in this part of town was minimal, and Ryan had a pretty clear and straight road to work with.

Other sounds besides Geoff’s conversation with Caleb could be heard through the earpieces, and it all washed over Ryan in a drone of background noise, cutting through the night’s silence. The quiet revving of car engines, Ray’s tired moans and groans as he struggled to wake up properly, the occasional pained gasp from Michael and then the quick apologies of Jack. But the up-beat conversations and banter that Ryan had started to associate with the crew was gone, squashed by exhaustion, stress, or a mixture of both.

Ryan took a sharp turn down a side road to avoid a well-lit and relatively busy intersection up ahead, coming within inches of clipping the front of Gavin’s car on the walls of the buildings. “Hey, watch it!” Gavin cried, the near-miss seeming to snap him out of his tired daze as he leaned to the side to stare out the window nervously. Ryan smirked and just went faster, making sure to cut the next turn even closer. The side mirror missed the corner of the building by a hairs-breadth, and then they were shooting off onto another main road. Gavin let out a squeak of protest. “Don’t break my car, Ryan!”

“If I wanted to break it, I wouldn’t be avoiding the walls,” Ryan pointed out. Gavin stared at him, mouth hanging open, and Ryan barked out a laugh. “Look, just keep an eye out for cops, would you? I’m not going to crash.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Gavin said slowly, continuing to stare at Ryan.

Michael snorted, and the sound was immediately followed by a small grunt of pain and Jack telling him to knock it off. “I wouldn’t believe him if I were you. He’d probably crash just for shits and grins,” he said, and his voice sounded the weirdest over the coms with his busted lung messing with his speech.

“I might crash into _you_ for shits and grins,” Ryan threatened. “Why only crash Gavin’s car when I can destroy another?”

“How about no one crashes into anything,” Jack suggested with a sigh. “I’d like everyone to get where they’re going in one piece. Or did you forget the urgency here?”

“I didn’t forget. I’m going a hundred miles per hour. What more do you want from me?” Ryan said, glancing down at the speedometer. So maybe it wasn’t quite a hundred, but that sounded good, so he didn’t correct himself. “Besides, the crashing wouldn’t be _now_. We can do it another time.”

“Hey, don’t ever touch my car,” Michael warned. “You bust my car and I’m destroying that stupid mask of yours.”

Ryan lifted one eyebrow, even though no one could see it, and hit the brakes so he drifted around a corner. “I’d like to see you try,” he challenged.

“He’d do it. Don’t mess with Michael’s car,” Ray piped up.

“What if a random citizen happened to hit your car on accident and destroyed it?” Ryan asked with a mischievous grin. He could easily go steal another car just to do this, especially since it seemed to be upsetting Michael so much, and the amount of care he gave his car was amusing.

“I swear to god, Ryan, if you run into my car with _anything_ , a land mine is going underneath your fucking bike,” Michael swore, his voice tight and strained, before he started coughing. Ryan winced at the grating sound through the coms, and when it stopped, Michael just groaned, “Oh, fucking fuck.”

“Ryan, stop killing Michael. Or his car. Just fucking shut up and drive,” Geoff griped, while Jack’s voice layered behind his, asking Michael how he was doing and if he needed anything. Ryan rolled his eyes but he shut up and drove.

Before they reached Jeremy’s warehouses, not too much further from the house, Ryan slowed the car to a more legal speed and cruised past to take stock of what was happening. A single cop car sat at the gate in the chain link fence, and the cop stood with Jeremy on the sidewalk, talking to him rather calmly. Jeremy waved his hands dismissively and smiled, shaking his head.

Ryan drove calmly past the two of them, and Gavin sank down in his seat when the cop turned to look at the car, despite the dark tinted windows. “There’s a cop here. We’re gonna wait for Jeremy to get rid of him. Unless you’d rather I just kill him,” Ryan suggested, pulling into a parking lot down the block and turning the car off.

“No, we’re not killing the cops. Not tonight. They’re already out for our asses; one of them doesn’t report back and you know they’ll be headed your way,” Geoff pointed out, and Ryan let out a sigh. It had been a week and a half since he’d killed anyone, or even been part of a fight. He was just itching to cause trouble. But Geoff was right, as much as Ryan was opposed to the idea of holding back.

“Do you even have a gun on you, Ryan?” Gavin asked, looking at him skeptically.

“Of course I do,” Ryan scoffed, patting his jacket. He could feel the mini automatic resting in its normal spot beneath his jacket. “And even if I didn’t, there are other ways. I have a car.”

“Yeah, my car,” Gavin grumbled as he got out.

“I don’t think he could do much damage with your tiny car. The cop would just have to step aside and he’d miss,” Ray laughed, and Michael chuckled.

Ryan huffed, unfolding himself from the driver’s seat and slamming the door closed. “I’m beginning to feel very unappreciated here,” he muttered, and the laughter died out, leaving only the faint sounds of Geoff and Michael’s cars. “Let’s go, Gavin.”

“Team Love’n’Stuff away!” Gavin mumbled around a yawn, his hand covering his mouth, and Ryan paused halfway through a step to look at the hacker incredulously.

“What now?” he asked, confused.

“Like Team Nice Dynamite. Or X-Ray and Vav. But it’s our team. Team Love’n’Stuff,” Gavin said, and he was talking like it was supposed to mean something, but Ryan couldn’t piece it together.

“Um…okay? What the hell does that even _mean_?” he asked after a moment, at a loss of what else to say.

Gavin shrugged and smiled. “It means us! Cause everyone loves me, and you’re…” He trailed off, waving his hand vaguely, and Ryan turned to him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m what? I’m stuff?” he asked. Geoff suddenly barked out a laugh that turned into giggles and Ryan frowned as Geoff’s laughter started everyone else laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

Gavin’s smile grew into a grin and he started down the sidewalk with a noticeable bounce in his step. “Come on, Ryebread. We have to go meet Jeremy, right?” he called over his shoulder. Ryan sighed and shook his head, but he couldn’t keep a small smile off his face. Gavin was weird and ridiculous and came up with stupid names for people with no apparent basis on anything, but he found it kind of amusing. It made Ryan feel like part of the team, even if the others still got wary and careful around him.

The two of them approached Jeremy slowly, keeping an eye out for the cop. Through the coms, it sounded like Jack had reached Kerry, and Ryan ignored him as he started listing out the guy’s injuries. From the sounds of things, Geoff was nearing Caleb’s hiding place as well.

Ryan and Gavin lingered in the shadows near the small guard station next to the gate, waiting for the officer to finally say goodbye to Jeremy and pull out in his car. Ryan pushed Gavin back further into the corner of the fence at the small building as the lights of the car moved quickly past them, making sure Gavin’s bright shirt and golden sunglasses didn’t catch the light.

Once the cop car turned a corner and the lights disappeared, Ryan moved away from the wall with Gavin close behind. “Jeremy,” Ryan called, circling the guard house. Jeremy turned to look at them, running a hand through his hair, and he jumped a little when he caught sight of Ryan. He was quite a bit shorter than Ryan, or any of the crew, with dark hair and the beginnings of a beard.

“Jesus. That mask was scary enough during the day,” Jeremy said, shaking his head. “Where’s Geoff?”

“We’re having a busy night,” Ryan snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding at the gate. “Can we go in? I don’t want to be spotted out here.”

“Yeah, of course. You guys need to see this,” Jeremy said, opening up the gate and leading them in. “Someone really doesn’t like you.”

“That sounds pretty normal,” Gavin said, following behind Ryan and Jeremy as they entered the collection of warehouses that Jeremy took care of. The crew had utilized a portion of one of them, and it wasn’t too difficult to find that one; smoke curled lazily up from a charred and crumbling building. It looked as if whatever fire had existed had recently been put out, and crime scene tape circled the front of the warehouse.

“The cops aren’t coming back anytime soon, are they?” Ryan asked, eyeing the yellow tape warily.

“No. They said they’d be back in the morning,” Jeremy said, lifting the crime tape. Ryan and Gavin ducked underneath it and went slowly toward the warehouse. Ryan was careful not to step in soot or leave any marks when he walked. He didn’t want to leave any evidence that they had been there if the cops were going to be back. When he glanced behind him, he saw Gavin very carefully stepping exactly where Ryan had, his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

The warehouse had been ravaged by flames, and anything that might have been left inside had been thoroughly destroyed. But it seemed like most of what the crew had put there was gone. A fire wouldn’t have fully destroyed the vehicles they’d stored, and there would have been significantly more damage if the weapons had been left there and the bullets and explosives had been introduced to the heat. No, their stuff had been taken out before the fire had been set.

“Go around the side,” Jeremy advised, staying on the other side of the crime scene tape and pointing to one side of the building. Ryan did as he suggested, moving carefully around the building, where he very quickly noticed what had Jeremy worried.

The crew’s symbol had been spray painted on the side of the building, a rather cheerful rubber duck in a broken circle. The green paint had been charred and darkened, but Ryan could still tell what it was with no problem. And he doubted it had missed the police’s attention.

“Hey, Geoff. I think someone’s throwing the cops at us,” Ryan said. Gavin frowned and stepped up beside him, digging his phone out of his pocket. Gavin took a couple pictures of the symbol, checking to make sure it showed up clearly on his phone screen. “They spray painted the crew’s symbol on the building. They practically signed our name on the damn thing."

“Spray paint?” Geoff said in surprise. “We haven’t done that shit in years.”

“That’s a lie. You painted the duck when we destroyed the Corpirate’s cars a few months back,” Jack corrected. “Michael, sit down and give me the disinfectant… Yes, it’s going to sting, Kerry.”

Ryan nodded to himself and made his way back to where Jeremy was waiting. “Where’s your camera monitors?” he asked, ducking underneath the yellow tape again with Gavin trailing behind.

“Back this way,” Jeremy said, leading them to the same small building they had met him at when they dropped their stuff off a couple weeks back. It was Jeremy’s base of operations, of sorts. The reception space at the front of the building was kept neat and clean, but the back was a large mess. The computer desk seemed to be rivaling Gavin’s for its collection of food and drink containers, and a cot had been shoved in the corner. Blankets and pillows had been thrown there haphazardly, and a pile of clothes sat beside the cot. It seemed as if Jeremy had been living in his business for a while.

Gavin took a seat at the desk immediately and Ryan stood behind him, watching as the hacker got to work. “Do you have Red Bull or anything?” Gavin asked, looking at Jeremy hopefully.

“Seriously, you need to drink something else sometimes,” Ryan muttered.

“I don’t think you’re one to talk,” Ray scoffed and Ryan frowned. “You drink more Diet Coke than anyone I’ve seen. Ever.”

“I’m sure I have something,” Jeremy said, looking around the small space a little lost and then leaving the room for a moment. Presumably to where he kept any food, because Ryan didn’t see anywhere that would store something like that.

Gavin quickly brought up the camera footage from the camera across from their warehouse, rewinding it to the time of the theft. When he brought it up, the screen was dark and full of static. Jeremy came back in with a Mountain Dew, which Gavin accepted readily. “They shot out the camera,” Jeremy supplied, sitting down on his cot. “I’m gonna need to fix that.”

Without answering, Gavin continued to rewind it, until an image sprang up on the screen. A semi-truck was parked in front of the warehouse, its back doors swung open. Gavin paused the image, advancing it frame by frame. Someone in a hood moved from the back of the truck like a stop-animation video. They turned and looked at the camera, raising a gun toward it, and Gavin stopped there.

Ryan leaned in closer as Gavin worked on enhancing the image, trying to make out the person’s face. It took a little while, but finally Ryan could make out the features of a man he knew. He had relatively normal features, but it was the scar across his face that Ryan recognized. He’d been around that man a time or two in the past.

Gavin’s breath caught in his throat and he sat back in the chair. “That’s Scarface,” he said, looking at Ryan over his shoulder. “He works with the Corpirate.”

“I’m not even mildly surprised,” Geoff muttered. “This asshole is really pissing me off at this point.”

“What, he wasn’t before?” Michael asked skeptically.

“No. I was just annoyed before. But now this fucker is stealing _my_ stuff and attacking _my_ people and blaming it on _me_. This is fucking personal,” Geoff growled. Ryan arched an eyebrow, moving away from Gavin’s chair slowly. He felt kind of bad for Ray and Caleb, having to be around a pissed-off Geoff. “You two get gone. Just in case the cops show up again. We’ll meet up back at the house, and Gavin, I want you to figure out where the fuck he could’ve taken our shit.”

“Okay,” Gavin said, closing out of the program and spinning around with the soda can in hand. “We gotta go, Jeremy. Geoff wants us back.”

Jeremy nodded, running a hand through his hair and looking at them worriedly. “He’s not upset with me, is he? For letting them do this?” he asked.

“Nope,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “He’s pissed at the guys who did this.” He went to follow Gavin out of the room and paused, looking at the monitor. “By the way… You deleted the footage of us dropping stuff off here, right?”

“Of course,” Jeremy said quickly. “As soon as you guys left. There’s no trace.”

Ryan nodded once and followed Gavin out, digging the car keys from his pocket. At least that was one good thing.


	19. Saving Kerry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Thanks again for your continued support for this story! I'm glad you all are enjoying it, so here's another chapter for you!

Michael was in pain.

It probably would have been smart for him to listen to Geoff and stay behind, but he hadn’t wanted to just lay in bed and wait for everyone to come back. Not only was constant bed rest extremely boring, but he also wanted to make sure he was there to help if there was a problem. They could need him, and Michael didn’t want to just listen through the coms. He had to be there.

Though Michael was starting to regret his decision as each bounce and turn made his chest ache and tighten. Even with the sling Jack had forced him to put on when it was clear that movement was hurting him, the bullet wound hurt like hell. It hurt a little more now after his coughing fit, and Michael had to grudgingly admit that maybe going out with a broken leg and busted lung wasn’t the best idea.

But there was no way in hell he was admitting that out loud.

Ryan and Gavin reached their location first. Michael chuckled lightly at Gavin’s new team name, his quiet amusement drowned out by Geoff’s explosive laughter. Even light laughter hurt Michael’s chest, and his breath came out with a wheeze he couldn’t control, so he quickly stopped.

Jack drove into a small residential neighborhood that was very similar to the one Ray and Michael had been living in. Flashing police lights lit up the nearby houses from where a group of cop cars were gathered in front of one house, and cops wandered the yard, stepping in and out of the building freely.

Jack slowed, killed the headlights, and pulled into a narrow dirt lane a few houses down from the gathered cops. He stopped as soon as the chrome car was out of sight of the road and turned it off, sliding out of the car. “Kerry?” he called quietly, looking around. Michael tried to twist around to grab his crutches from where he’d thrown them in the back seat, but the movement was too fast and his breath caught painfully in his throat. He scowled and leaned back in his seat, trying to relax and take measured breaths like Jack had advised a few days previous.

For a moment, there was no answer, and then a man around Michael’s age limped out of a nearby back yard, a pistol in one hand and a rock in the other. Jack’s shoulders relaxed and the breath he let out came through the coms clearly. “I got Kerry,” he reported, then he pointed at Kerry and said, “Sit down. We’ll come to you.” Kerry smiled in acknowledgement and settled on the ground gingerly, wincing.

“How is he?” Geoff asked immediately.

“He’s definitely banged up,” Jack said, pulling open the back door of the car. “I’ll let you know more when I’ve had a chance to look.” He grabbed the first aid kit and Michael’s crutches from the back, and then pulled open Michael’s door. Michael carefully wormed his way out of the car, struggling for a moment to get his splinted leg free. He grabbed one of the crutches from Jack and shoved it under the arm that wasn’t in a sling, levering himself to his feet. The crutch pulled at his gunshot wound uncomfortably but Michael bit back a complaint, making his way slowly to Kerry in an awkward, hopping gait as Jack closed up the car again.

Kerry was shorter than pretty much everyone in the crew, with messy blond hair and a childishly round face. He was wearing a T-shirt, pajama pants, and no shoes. Blood wet his shirt in a couple different places and one foot was actively bleeding, grass and gravel clinging to his skin. Jack followed Michael and knelt down beside Kerry, setting aside the first aid kit and extra crutch.

“Where are you hurt?” Jack asked, prodding at Kerry’s arm and chest.

“Ow!” Kerry cried, moving away from Jack’s fingers. “It hurts where there are holes in me.”

Michael leaned heavily on the crutch for support as he watched Jack figure out what he was dealing with. “You have…what, three open wounds?” Jack said, pulling at Kerry’s bloody shirt to look at his chest. Kerry flinched away from his touch, sucking in a pained breath. “A bullet wound and two grazes, it looks like.”

“That’s a lot better than I was thinking,” Geoff said. “I think I see Caleb over there.”

Jack nodded, even though Geoff couldn’t see it, and said, “Can you get your shirt off, Kerry? I can’t get to your injuries like this.”

Kerry struggled to get his shirt off, pausing every few seconds to let out a pained breath or bite out a sharp, “Ow!” It was pretty clear that Kerry hadn’t often been in situations that would lend to him being injured. Michael was dealing with the pain of his injuries far better than Kerry was dealing with his, which didn’t seem right.

Michael shifted, the crutch under his arm becoming uncomfortable and his chest aching. Jack turned to him and frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Ryan interrupted him over the earpieces.

“Hey, Geoff. I think someone’s throwing the cops at us. They spray painted the crew’s symbol on the building. They practically signed our name on the damn thing,” Ryan said and Michael scowled. These assholes had to start leaving his crew alone.

“Spray paint? We haven’t done that shit in years,” Geoff said, surprised.

“That’s a lie. You painted the duck when we destroyed the Corpirate’s cars a few months back. Michael, sit down and give me the disinfectant,” Jack said firmly. Michael huffed out a breath but sat down, slowly and gingerly, his leg stretched out in front of him.

“Is it going to hurt?” Kerry asked nervously, watching Michael dig the disinfectant out of the first aid kit.

“Yes, it’s going to sting, Kerry,” Jack sighed, taking the bottle from Michael and wetting part of Kerry’s shirt that wasn’t covered in blood.

Besides the hole in his foot, Kerry had a line drawn across his shoulder that had mostly stopped bleeding, and another, deeper furrow in his side, in roughly the same place where Gavin had a scar from his bullet graze. Jack started by cleaning off the injuries that were still bleeding, trying to get the gravel and dirt out of the wounds.

“Why are you holding a rock?” Michael finally asked, staring at the stone in Kerry’s hand. He hadn’t put it down except to take off his shirt, and then he’d grabbed it again, almost absently.

Kerry glanced down at the rock, surprised, and then handed it to Michael. “Oh. It was thrown through my window. It woke me up and gave me time to get down, or else I would’ve been shot more,” he said, and Michael turned it over in his hands. “I thought you guys might want it.”

“Why?” Jack asked, confused. Another turn of the rock showed chipped green and black paint. Like the warehouse where Ryan and Gavin were, someone had tried to frame the crew for the hit on Kerry. The duck in a broken circle was difficult to mistake as anything but the Fake AH Crew’s symbol.

“Because someone’s fucking playing with us,” Michael growled, tossing the rock down on the ground. Jack scooped it up, took one look at it, frowned, and put it back down. “Give you three guesses who.”

“I think we only need the one guess,” Jack sighed. “Put that in the kit and pass me the bandages.” Michael threw the rock into the first aid kit and dug out the roll of bandages, passing them over to Jack. He wanted to go find the assholes who were targeting his crew and their people, but even walking a few feet from the car to Kerry had been difficult, and it was doubtful that the attackers were still in the area.

That didn’t mean Michael didn’t want to go hurt someone. Preferably someone who deserved it, but at this point, anyone would do.

The longer Michael sat there, doing nothing more than passing Jack first aid supplies, the more antsy he got. He listened to Ryan and Gavin sorting through the video tapes and to Ray and Geoff talking to Caleb about the attack on his weapon stores. They were all actually doing something, and figuring shit out, but Michael was just sitting.

Kerry explained that the drive-by had happened after he’d gone to sleep. He’d heard the rock go through the window and rolled out of bed as the shooting started. A bullet had hit his foot while he flipped out of bed, and the other two had happened because he hadn’t stayed far enough away from the windows a couple times.

Finally, Michael let out an explosive breath and forced himself up to his feet. Or his good foot. Jack lifted an eyebrow at him and Michael declared, “I’m going for a walk. I can’t just sit here anymore.”

Jack frowned but nodded slowly. “Alright. Just don’t go too far,” he said.

“Okay, _mom_ ,” Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes and starting to hop limp away. “I’ll be careful.”

Michael left Jack and Kerry where they were sitting and moved down the narrow dirt road, away from the road the cops were sitting on. He wanted to see if there was an alley to the back of Kerry’s house. Maybe he could find something that Kerry and the cops were missing. After all, he had a bit of experience with the Corpirate and how he worked. He might notice something.

Each step pulled at his chest uncomfortably, and Michael was wheezing after only a short distance as his healing lung struggled to deal with his activity. His broken leg ached and the other leg wasn’t doing much better holding his entire weight and with minimal help from a single crutch. But Michael didn’t want to stop and rest just because his stupid body couldn’t stay in one piece.

Michael found the dirt alley that led behind the houses that faced the street they had come from. He started down it and only had a second to process the person in all black clothing standing in the shadows before the butt of a gun swiped down toward him.

Michael dropped with a shout, hitting the ground on his chest with a heavy expulsion of air and another, strangled shout. His chest was on fire and his leg wasn’t doing much better, but Michael didn’t have the time to worry about such trivial things as pain.

“Michael, what’s wrong?” Jack demanded over the earpieces, but even if Michael had the breath to answer, he didn’t allow himself the time. He rolled onto his back, grabbing his crutch from where he’d dropped it and swinging it up.

The crutch slammed into his attacker’s legs and the man shouted, stumbling away from Michael and giving Michael the chance to scoot away.

“Kerry, get in the car!” Jack shouted. Michael attacker growled and pointed the gun at Michael. A shot rang out and Michael flinched away, closing his eyes in preparation for more pain. Instead, someone fell to the ground, and Michael opened his eyes again slowly, looking up.

Jack stood a few feet away, his gun slowly lowering to his side. The man who had attacked Michael lay at Michael’s feet, blood pooling out of a shot through his head. “Are you okay, Michael?” Jack asked quickly, hurrying over to Michael’s side and helping him up slowly.

“Fine,” Michael gasped, leaning on Jack and pressing the arm in the sling to his chest to try and stop the pain. It hurt like hell every time Michael took a breath and he was almost worried the bullet hole had opened up again, even though Jack had stitched up the open wound and it had been healing pretty well for the last week and a half.

Jack moved quickly but carefully, so he didn’t move too far from Michael, and grabbed the crutch from the ground. “Here. We need to go. The cops probably noticed that,” he said, offering Michael the crutch. Michael tucked it under his arm and started limping back the way he’d come, Jack hovering at his side and watching him. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps again, and it felt like he couldn’t get enough air.

“Geoff, we’re headed back. Michael needs to lay down and rest. We’re dropping Kerry off at a safe house on our way,” Jack said.

“I’m fine, Jack,” Michael insisted, but even he had to admit he sounded bad. His voice was weak and raspy, even as he tried to make it stronger.

“No, you’re going back to the house, Michael. I knew it was a bad idea for you to come with us,” Geoff said firmly. “Ryan and Gavin should be there by the time you guys arrive. Ray and I will be behind you shortly.”

“Is Michael okay?” Gavin asked worriedly and Michael let out a small breath that was supposed to be a scoff, but he didn’t think making that sound would feel very good.

“I’m _fine_. Really,” Michael insisted. They reached the car and Jack opened the passenger side door, threw Michael’s crutch into the back (very nearly hitting Kerry square in the face), slammed the door closed once Michael was inside, and then hopped into the driver’s seat. They pulled out quickly, before they could be stopped by the cops, shooting off onto the nearest street.

Michael groaned to himself and sunk down in the seat, pressing his hand to his chest and methodically working to block out the aching pain.


	20. A Smashing Rescue

Ray sat quietly in the passenger seat, a little hesitant to speak up while Geoff was in his current mood. Geoff was very clearly annoyed. He was muttering to himself and he slammed his hand on the steering wheel any time he had to suddenly change directions to avoid oncoming traffic. Michael and Ryan’s banter only seemed to irritate him more, even though Ray found it highly amusing.

For the most part, Ray stared out the window and listened to the conversation through the coms as the other groups figured out what was going on at their locations. He listened to Ryan and Gavin talking to Jeremy and Jack listing out Kerry’s, relatively minor, injuries. At the very least, it sounded like no one was in serious, immediate trouble in those two places; now they just had to see what was going on with Caleb.

Geoff pulled into a deserted lot beneath an overpass that held only one other car. A lanky young man sat on the hood of the small sedan, his short hair a mess and his clothes rumpled and disheveled. He looked up when Geoff stopped next to him, running a hand through his hair and tugging at his shirt. The fabric was pulled and stretched, and Ray assumed he’d been tugging at it a lot recently.

As soon as the jeep was shut off, Geoff hopped out of the car and Ray followed suit. Caleb slid off his car, smiling weakly, and Geoff stepped up to him, looking him over quickly. “Hey, are you okay?” he demanded, and Caleb nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” he reassured, even though Ray could see his hands shaking as they twitched between his hair, his eyes, his clothing, his hands. He seemed unable to keep still. “Just a little shaken up. I probably would have died if I wasn’t heading out to get pizza. It’s just…holy shit. Someone tried to kill me, Geoff!”

“That seems to be going around,” Geoff said, nodding to himself.

“Hey, Geoff. I think someone’s throwing the cops at us,” Ryan said over the coms. Geoff held up a finger to Caleb and turned away to have a quick conversation with Ryan. Ray didn’t pay much attention, knowing Geoff had it figured out.

“I didn’t think you lived at that place,” Ray commented. He’d been to see Caleb with Michael while they had been preparing for the last heist, and he knew that Caleb kept his extra weapons in a garage in a little, unassuming house. But he’d assumed Caleb had a second place, further from his storage, where he’d lived.

Caleb nodded, waving his hand vaguely. “Yeah. I don’t like leaving all that stuff unattended,” he said.

Geoff turned back around, drumming his fingers on his leg. “You didn’t happen to notice the crew symbol anywhere around your house, did you?” he asked Caleb, who frowned and shook his head.

“Not that I noticed. But I wasn’t actually there when it happened, and I didn’t go back after the explosion. I didn’t want to be caught by the cops,” Caleb sighed. “Why?”

“Ryan and Gavin found our duck spray painted on our warehouse,” Geoff answered.

“We could probably go look,” Ray suggested. “We won’t even have to get close if it was spray painted like at Jeremy’s.”

“But aren’t the cops going to be there? It didn’t happen that long ago,” Caleb pointed out.

“Not necessarily. And if they are, we’ll just have to be careful,” Geoff said, pulling open the driver’s side door. “Your car’s still in your name, isn’t it?” Caleb sighed and shuffled in place, looking down at the ground, and Ray smiled. He wasn’t so good at hiding things. “Dammit, Caleb, I told you to pass it off to someone else! You know that shit can be traced back to you. Once the cops realize you didn’t die in there, they’re gonna come looking for you, and they’ll start by tracking your vehicle.”

“I meant to, but I was busy securing all the things you guys needed,” Caleb protested. “I kind of thought that was a priority.”

Geoff huffed and shook his head. “Okay, just get in the car. We’re ditching yours here. Ray and I will drop you off at a safe house when we’re done with your place,” he said, climbing into the driver’s seat. Ray hopped back in the car and Caleb hesitated, glancing at his car, before he sighed heavily and climbed into the back seat.

Geoff pulled back out onto the road and headed calmly toward Caleb’s house, no doubt trying to avoid police attention. Their meeting place really wasn’t that far from Caleb’s place, and Ray could see smoke rising up to the sky if he looked closely. It was a little difficult to make out against the night sky and the thin clouds, but it was definitely there.

Michael shouted through the coms and Ray sat up quickly, eyes wide. “Michael?” he asked, at the same time Jack called out to him. No one answered for a moment, and then he heard a gunshot through the earpieces and his heart went up to his throat.

“Are you okay, Michael?” Jack asked.

“Fine,” Michael groaned, and Ray let out a breath, dropping his head in his hand. He was so tired of fearing for his best friend’s life. It just kept happening, and Ray was afraid that there was going to be a time that Michael didn’t end up fine. A hand touched his shoulder lightly and he looked up at Geoff’s sympathetic half-smile.

“Geoff, we’re headed back. Michael needs to lay down and rest. We’re dropping Kerry off at a safe house on our way,” Jack said.

“I’m fine, Jack,” Michael insisted, but his voice was weak and raspy, and Ray thought that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“No, you’re going back to the house, Michael. I knew it was a bad idea for you to come with us,” Geoff said firmly. “Ryan and Gavin should be there by the time you guys arrive. Ray and I will be behind you shortly.”

“Is Michael okay?” Gavin asked, and Ray bit his lip.

“I’m fine. Really,” Michael griped and Ray nodded slowly. He had to trust his friend on this; they had other things to deal with right now.

A car cut in front of them as they were rounding a corner and Geoff slammed on the brakes, scowling. The car zipped by, and Ray caught a flash of green on the side door. “Uh, Geoff? Did you see that?” he asked, watching the car as they turned behind it.

“See what?” Geoff asked. Flashing lights appeared ahead of them on the street, and the road was blocked off around Caleb’s burnt-out house. The houses on either side had been damaged by the fire and explosion as well, but they at least were still standing and not entirely black. Despite the late hour, a few people stood alongside the barriers that had been set up and monitored by the cops.

“I think they had our symbol on their car,” Ray said slowly, watching the car in front of them going directly toward the road block. “Can you hand me a gun from the back there, Caleb?” Geoff scowled, watching the car carefully as Caleb pressed a gun into Ray’s outstretched hand.

“I hope they know they’re messing with the wrong people,” Geoff griped, holding his hand out as well, and Caleb silently complied by passing over a pistol.

The car ahead of them suddenly shot forward toward the road block. The cops shouted and people jumped out of the way as the car broke through the barrier. Gunfire erupted from the car and people dove for cover. The flashing lights on a couple cars exploded, a fireman dropped, and the cops scrambled for their guns. They started shooting as the car took off down the road, the passenger shooting back until they got some distance.

Geoff scowled and shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m not letting these assholes get away with this shit,” he growled, slamming down on the accelerator and shooting the car forward. “I’m tired of assholes trying to blame me and my crew for all of their screw ups!”

The jeep plowed through the opening the other car had opened, and the cops shouted at them as they went through but didn’t shoot. Ray rolled down his window, unfastening his seat belt and leaning out as Geoff stayed on the tail of the other car.

It didn’t take the other car very long to notice they were being followed, though Ray suspected they could have followed them unnoticed longer if he hadn’t taken a shot at the car’s back tire. But he did manage to hit it and send them skidding, rubber pieces ripping apart from the hole and getting thrown across the road, sparks flying up from the exposed rim.

The passenger in the car mimicked Ray, leaning out of the car window with a gun in hand. He wore a plain white mask, branded with the green Fake AH Crew logo on the forehead, and he returned fire. Ray ducked back inside the jeep as a bullet whizzed past his head.

“Take out the other tires, Ray!” Geoff barked, sticking his arm out the window and shooting. Caleb joined in, snatching another gun from the back and assisting Geoff with keeping the masked shooter back.

“Why do you guys get to have all the fun?” Ryan complained over the earpieces.

“You could always come help us out if you wanted,” Ray pointed out, sighting down the gun and pulling the trigger. The front tire on the right hand side blew out as well, and the car leaned slightly.

“Really?” Ryan asked, his voice lit up with a childish excitement that made Ray grin.

“Ryan, you’re still driving my car,” Gavin pointed out.

“If you’re going to help, get your ass over here. Gavin can find us through the earpieces. I don’t want these fuckers getting away to do this shit again,” Geoff griped. Ray tried to get a bead on the tires on the other side of the car, but it was damn near impossible, being on the right side of the car.

Finally, he ducked into the car and said quickly, “Move over, Caleb. I’m taking that spot.” Ray hopped the center console, elbowing Geoff in the head and making the crew boss shout out a protest, and then he practically fell on top of Caleb.

Caleb shouted and moved away to the other side of the car while Ray took his spot. Ray slid out of the window, sitting on the edge and holding the railing on the top of the jeep for balance. It would be a lot harder to move out of the way of incoming bullets, but he wasn’t quite as worried about it since there only seemed to be one shooter, and he’d have the same problems Ray was having sitting on one side of the vehicle.

“Take a left!” Gavin shouted, his voice high and screechy, and Ray winced.

“Tell me before I hit the turn next time!” Ryan barked, and Michael chuckled quietly.

Ray shot out the car’s other back tire, and the car turned around a corner, fishtailing and wobbling as the wheels tried to gather friction beneath them. Geoff sped up so they were nearly side-by-side and Ray cursed, since he was once again on the wrong side of the car.

Before he could tell himself that what he was about to do was a bad idea, Ray gathered his legs up underneath him and stood up on the windowsill.

“Fuck, Ray, don’t kill yourself,” Geoff barked, but Ray didn’t answer. He took a deep breath, hoped that Geoff wouldn’t shake the car suddenly, and climbed onto the roof of the jeep.

“Parkour,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed the other railing with his free hand and hooked his toes under the other to try and keep him stabilized as he leveled the gun at the car.

Ray fired at the driver, but they had seen him climbing on the car and slammed on the accelerator. The bullet smacked into the door handle, and the driver remained unharmed.

“Incoming!” Ryan cried cheerfully, and Ray’s eyes widened as Geoff and the other car hit the next intersection at roughly the same time. And coming down the crossroad was Gavin’s little purple, piece of shit car, that was about to be an even bigger piece of shit.

“Oh, fuck,” Ray breathed, and he had just enough time to drop his gun and grip the railing as tightly as he could before Ryan slammed into the car sporting their symbol.

The other car flew sideways and slammed into the jeep, and all three cars skidded down the road until the jeep hit the corner of a building and stopped them abruptly. Ray tumbled forward off of the jeep and landed on the windshield of the other car, shattering it with the force of his fall.

Ray groaned, his body aching and in pain, and stirred slightly. Glass grated underneath his back, and pain flashed up his legs from the shards that had lodged themselves in the meat of his legs. He winced, trying to move as slowly and carefully as he could. “Guys?” he rasped. “You okay?”

“That wasn’t my best idea,” Ryan groaned.

“I’m gonna kill you when I can move again, Ryan,” Geoff grumbled. Gavin just mumbled something unintelligible, his voice quiet and weak.

Someone grabbed at Ray’s arm and he shouted, wiggling away as quickly as he could, and a gunshot rang out. The grip loosened, the hand dropping away.

“What the hell is happening?” Jack demanded.

“Ryan’s a dick,” Geoff groaned. “We need a pick-up. Room enough for all of us. Quick as you can.”

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. Where’s there?” Jack asked. Geoff took a moment to find the signs for the roads as Ray rolled off of the hood of the car, landing on the asphalt. He grimaced as the glass dug itself deeper into his legs, and then pushed himself upright, using the grill of the car to help him to his feet.

As soon as he was up, Ray looked around. Glass littered the ground and crunched beneath Ray’s feet. The two people in the car they had been pursuing were dead – one shot, the other likely dead from the collision. The entire right-hand side of the jeep was caved in, and Caleb hung out the back window, gun in hand. Blood ran down his face from a gash in his forehead. Geoff leaned back in his seat, blinking his eyes rapidly. His face was covered in blood from a gash along his hairline and a potentially broken nose.

Gavin’s little car was crushed, the front end as close to flat as it could likely get. Gavin slumped against his door, a cut beneath his eye bleeding readily. Ryan was attempting to disentangle himself from the seat belt, moving in quick, jerky motions and pausing occasionally to take a sharp breath.

“I thought you were coming to help, Ryan,” Ray said, blinking as he realized the cracks in his vision weren’t just over the glass portions of the cars. He took his glasses off and frowned down at the broken lens, putting them back on his face a little aggressively. “You broke my glasses.”

“I didn’t think you were on the roof,” Ryan protested, finally managing to wrestle his door open and tumbling out. He got his feet underneath him and stumbled as he worked his way around the little car.

“This still would’ve been stupid if he wasn’t on the roof,” Geoff muttered, and Ray looked around to see him stirring, slowly unfastening his seat belt. “We need to go. Ugh, fuck, can you get a door open, Caleb?”

“No, but there’s a window,” Caleb said, sliding out of said window with a lot of flinching and wincing. “But there’s glass underneath it. Careful.”

“Get out of there and tell me where to find you. The cops are gonna be on you guys soon. Are you sure you all can move okay? I can try and get you guys before I drop off Michael,” Jack asked worriedly. Geoff started sliding over the center console into the back seat, so he could climb out the same window as Caleb, and he sucked in a pained breath between his teeth.

“We can get gone. Just make it fast, Jack,” he groaned. Ryan forced open Gavin’s door and undid his seatbelt, pulling the hacker out of the car. Gavin whimpered and Ryan scooped him up, holding him like a sleeping child.

As soon as they were all out of the cars, Geoff led the way down the road, his footsteps unsteady and pained and no different from anyone else’s. They were gone from the scene before the sirens were even heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I had previously thought that there would only be 20 chapters of this story all together, so this should have been where the final chapter went. Instead, the crew decided to be extremely mouthy and talkative and uncooperative, so there's still quite a bit left to go!


	21. Not Quite Out for the Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this chapter is a little late being put up, and the next chapters might be, too. With the start of NaNo, updates won't come as frequently, while I work on my new story this month. I will still be attempting to write new chapters, but we'll see how often I can get to it before December.

The ride back to the house was done in tense silence. Jack had been alarmed by the state of the crew when he picked them up, but the building anger emanating from Geoff had kept Jack from asking. He didn’t need a fight to break out in the cramped confines of Michael’s car.

Caleb was gone by the time Jack came around. He’d heard Geoff giving him directions to the closest safe house, after asking him repeatedly if he could make it on his own. Jack assumed Caleb had convinced him to let him go off without an escort, and Jack seriously hoped that he made it okay. If the rest of the crew was anything to go off of, Caleb probably wasn’t doing too hot himself.

Ray slouched down in the passenger seat of Michael’s car, his heels propped up on the dashboard. Blood dripped from the collection of glass shards protruding from his legs. Ryan leaned back in his seat, and he had removed his mask. His eyes were closed and he had his palm pressed to a semi-circular cut around one where the eye of his mask had apparently cut into his skin. Geoff was supporting Gavin and shaking him awake any time he started to fade. Based on his injuries, it was likely he had a concussion – Geoff certainly had the right idea.

Jack pulled into the dirt lot behind the house, alongside the two motorcycles that were now most of their vehicle selection. Ryan hopped out quickly and headed inside, limping slightly, as Jack and Geoff worked to help the lads out. Gavin managed to stand on his own, even though he was a little wobbly, and Geoff helped him make his way to the door. Getting Ray out seemed to hurt the sharpshooter, since he let out pained breaths when he moved his legs, and Jack winced in sympathy.

It took a minute, but Jack managed to get Ray inside and to the living room, where Ray collapsed face-first onto the floor. “What the hell happened?” Michael demanded from the couch. He was propped up by the pillows Gavin had been using and his crutch had been thrown to the side.

“I thought I told you to go to bed,” Jack said with a frown and Michael shrugged.

“I’m laying down, aren’t I?” he pointed out. “I just want to know what the fuck is going on.”

“Ryan is a fucking asshole, that’s what happened,” Geoff snapped. He crouched in front of Gavin, who had dropped in his rolling desk chair. Ryan sat against the wall, a rag now pressed to his eye, and he scowled at Geoff.

“You said you wanted help,” Ryan protested. Ray mumbled something into the carpet that Jack couldn’t even begin to understand. “What?” Ryan said blankly.

Ray turned his head and pressed his cheek against the floor, sighing. “I said that that wasn’t what I was expecting,” he said. “Can someone please get rid of this glass? It kind of hurts.”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Ryan griped, pulling the rag away from his eye gingerly and frowning at the stained fabric. “I was _trying_ to cut them off, but you all shot ahead faster than I’d expected. And no one told me Ray was on the roof.”

“What the fuck were you doing on the roof?” Michael laughed, and Ray frowned at him as Jack grabbed the first aid kit from beside Ryan. He knelt down beside Ray and started cutting up his pant leg so that he could peel the denim away from his injuries as much as possible.

“I was trying to get a good shot,” Ray grumbled, crossing his arms under his chin. Jack pulled a large piece of glass free and Ray’s leg jerked while Ray complained, “Ow… That hurts, Jack!”

Jack set the glass aside, splashed a pad of gauze with disinfectant, and pressed it over the bleeding cut. “Sorry, Ray, but I don’t think you want me to leave this all here. How are you and Gav doing, Geoff?”

“All right, I think. Both of us could do with some patching up, but it can wait till you’re done with Ray,” Geoff said. His face was covered in blood, and his voice was thick and a little difficult to make out, like he had a severely stuffy nose. Gavin reached a hand up to the cut on his head and pulled his fingers away, staring at the blood staining them.

“There’s a lot of blood,” he muttered blearily, and Jack wasn’t sure if he was this out of it because of exhaustion or his concussion.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Ryan said, poking at his own injury. Despite the pressure he was putting on it, it still bled readily and the rag was almost stained through. Jack made a note to take a look at it and make sure Ryan didn’t need stitches. He never would have thought that mask would do any kind of damage at all, let alone make Ryan bleed that much.

“And he wouldn’t have head wounds if someone hadn’t used a tiny car as a fucking wrecking ball,” Geoff snapped.

Michael snorted, shaking his head. “I’m so glad _you_ were driving my car, Jack,” he said.

“Ryan broke my car,” Gavin mumbled sadly. “I like my car.”

“We’ll get your car fixed up, Gav,” Geoff promised, pulling the hacker’s hands away from his face. “Stop poking at it. You’re not helping.”

Jack pulled the final glass shard from Ray’s leg, dropping it on the bloody pile he’d collected. With the glass gone, Jack wrapped Ray’s legs in bandages. Ray twisted around to look and said with a grin, “Look, I’m a mummy!”

“And least half of you,” Michael agreed. “Together, I think we can make a whole mummy!” Ray grinned at him while Jack gathered everything from the floor and moved on to Gavin and Geoff.

“Jack, I’m tired,” Gavin complained, and as Jack looked over him, he noticed a bruise spreading across his forehead. “And my arm hurts. Why does my arm hurt?”

“Whiplash, I assume,” Jack answered, poking carefully at Gavin’s shoulder, and the hacker frowned faintly. “I’ll get you some ice for that, and you’re going to have to stay awake for a while longer so you don’t slip into a coma.”

“What if I want to be in a coma?” Gavin asked, flinching away as Jack reached up to clean the cut under his eye.

“I don’t think you want to be in a coma, Gavin,” Ray said, rolling his eyes.

“No one should be in a coma,” Geoff said, digging some gauze out of the first aid kit and balling it up so he could put pieces up his nostrils and try to catch some of the blood. “Is he going to be okay, Jack?” His voice was even more nasally now that he’d put the gauze in and Jack smiled.

Nodding, Jack grabbed some bandages and started wrapping them gingerly around Gavin’s head, covering a cut on his forehead that had been hidden by his hairline. A small gauze pad was taped to the cut beneath his eye as well, where the bleeding had already started slowing. “As long as he doesn’t fall asleep, I think so,” he assured Geoff, cutting the bandages and tying them off. Gavin touched the bandages, twisting his head around as if he’d be able to see them.

“It’s like a headband,” he commented. “My hair feels trapped.”

Michael laughed and said, “It’s sticking out between the bandages.” Gavin’s fingers trailed along the bandages, stopping when he encountered stray pieces of hair jutting out.

“You can be the rest of the mummy,” Ray said as Jack turned to look at Geoff. Geoff waved him off, nodding over to Ryan as he started binding his own head similar to Gavin’s.

“I’m fine. We can set my nose in a minute. It’ll stop bleeding soon,” Geoff muttered, frowning in concentration as he worked on bandaging himself up. Jack nodded and grabbed the rest of the first aid supplies, making a mental note that they needed to go out for more again soon, and he knelt down by Ryan’s side.

The mad mercenary had turned away from the rest of the crew slightly and was scowling down at the ground as he continued trying to staunch the flow of blood from beneath his eye with his stained rag. His mask hung on his knee, grinning at the room at large, and Ryan barely glanced at Jack when Jack came toward him.

Jack moved Ryan’s hand away from his eye. Rubbing at the cut had cleaned off some of his face paint, and bloodstained skin showed in patches. The cut was still bleeding readily and Jack frowned, shaking his head. “I think this needs stitches. Seriously, how sharp is that mask of yours?” he said, pulling out everything he needed from the first aid kit.

“It’s not sharp, really. But it takes a very small amount of pressure to cut skin. Anything can cut if it hits you hard enough,” Ryan said in a rather eerie monotone. Jack didn’t even want to know how he knew this. He was sure that it was something that was best left alone.

“So…how are we gonna do the last heist?” Michael asked after a moment, breaking the silence that had come up among the crew. Jack glanced at him over his shoulder as he threaded the suture needle he was going to use on Ryan. “Jack is the only one not bleeding. All our shit is gone. And the Corpirate is fucking with us and blaming us for all his bullshit.”

Geoff nodded, prodding at his nose and delicately feeling the cartilage. “We’re definitely doing something about it,” he declared hotly, though the strength of his words was undercut by the fact that half his words sounded as if they were being spoken by someone with a speech impediment. “That bastard won’t get away with this shit. We’re taking all our shit back, and he’s going to end up dead as dicks when we’re done. Do we have a nose brace in that box, Jack?”

Jack pushed the first aid kit over to Geoff with his foot, attention fixed on the cut under Ryan’s eye as he sewed it shut. Ryan seemed to be fighting to keep his eye open, but his shoulders were tense and his fists were clenched on his jeans. He flinched slightly with each stroke of the needle and Jack tried to make it as quick as possible.

“How are we getting everything back?” Ray asked, and Jack saw him wiggling around on his stomach to face Geoff out of the corner of his eye.

Geoff was silent for a moment, digging a nose brace out of the box and clamping it over his nose, holding it in place with medical tape. “Well, he took everything from our warehouse, right?” Geoff said, and it sounded like he was thinking things through to himself. “Which means he put it somewhere. Gavin, I need you to figure out what places, besides his mansion, the Corpirate could take all our shit.”

Gavin looked at Geoff blearily and then nodded. “Okay,” he said, turning to his computer. Jack wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to focus on it at the moment, but it would at least keep Gavin awake.

“Why not his mansion?” Michael asked. “That place is big enough to fit a fucking tank in any one room! We didn’t have _that_ much junk.”

“We know where his mansion is, and you have already shown that you can get in and out with minimal trouble,” Ryan spoke up as Jack tied off the thread and cut it. As soon as the cut was fixed, Ryan put his mask back on, but pale skin still showed through the opening in the mask, beneath his eye. “It’s not a secure location. He’ll have a backup location ready for something like this.”

“Besides, he knows that would be the first place we’d look. That mansion is going to be a trap if we go there,” Jack added, moving back to Geoff to make sure the crew boss had managed to fix himself up well enough on his own.

“Right. So, we need to figure out where the fuck he put all of our stuff, and how to get it back. After that, we’re going to fuck him up like we planned before. The final heist won’t happen for a while yet; even you should be okay to go by then, Michael,” Geoff said, batting Jack’s hand away from the bandages around his head. “I’m fine, Jack. Seriously.”

“And you’ll be better if you stop stressing out and rest. Everyone will be,” Jack said, glancing around at the crew.

“I’m already resting,” Michael protested, adjusting the pillows behind his back and wincing as he moved. He grabbed the remote from nearby and grabbed at a controller too far away from his hand for him to reach. “Ray, help.”

Ray twisted around and grabbed the controller, passing it to Michael as Michael powered on the television and the Xbox. “I’m resting, too,” Ray declared, tapping the carpet with his palms. “See? Laying down and everything.”

“How am I supposed to rest and do this?” Gavin asked, and even though he was still mumbling and his words were a little slurred, it sounded like his head was starting to clear up. At least, he seemed to be working quite efficiently at the moment on his search, and he seemed to know what he was doing, so Jack took it as a good sign.

Sighing, Jack stood up, clicking the first aid kit closed. “I just mean that no one should do anything to bother injuries,” he said. “I’m gonna make some food; everyone will start feeling better after eating and having something to drink that isn’t alcohol.” He looked at Geoff pointedly and Geoff rolled his eyes, frowning.

Jack left the rest of the crew to their own devices as he went to make them all something to eat. He could hear Michael starting up a video game and Ray joining in (after insisting Geoff had to get him a controller because he was resting and couldn’t get up). Gavin tapped out a steady rhythm in the background with his keyboard, while Geoff threw in the occasional question or comment on his work.

Ryan stepped into the kitchen, digging his keys out of his pocket and adjusting his jacket. Jack looked over at him and arched an eyebrow. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m just going out for a bit. Grab some things,” he said dismissively. “I’ll be back soon.” Ryan didn’t wait for Jack to say anything else as he stepped outside and closed the door firmly behind himself. A moment later, Jack heard his motorcycle start up, and then the engine revved as Ryan gunned it out of the dirt lot.

Jack frowned and shook his head. He didn’t think it was a good idea for any of them to be out right now, not with the police on edge and with the Corpirate blaming the crew for everything, but he didn’t think that telling Ryan no would have worked. Besides, it was still dark out, and Ryan was in all black; if he was careful, it wouldn’t be hard for him to avoid notice.

Sighing, Jack continued making food, and he hoped that things would be quieter and have settled down by the time Ryan returned.


	22. Retrieval

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am back! :D With lots of action and FAHC weirdness. Hope you all enjoy this latest chapter!

“You’re sure this is the right place, Gavin?” Geoff asked through the ear pieces and Gavin nodded, glancing between the address written in a small notebook and the warehouse in front of him.

It had taken Gavin a little while to track down the other properties the Corpirate owned that could also store whatever the Fake AH Crew owned. They had all agreed that the Corpirate wouldn’t likely have his name (or well-known aliases) on any property that would work. If he had gone to all the trouble to rob the crew, it was doubtful he hadn’t put some thought into the storage.

Without much to go off of, it had taken Gavin almost a week to track down the pier-side factory, and as far as he could tell, it was the only real lead. The canning company that had owned the building was at the end of a long line of subsidiaries and shell companies, and it all could eventually be traced back to the Corpirate. And if Gavin was wrong, at least it would be another place to check off his list.

“Pretty sure,” Gavin said, staring at the factory. It sat partially on the dock built along the waterfront outside Achievement City. The front half of the building sat on dry land, while the rest was built on concrete pillars rising from the water. A wooden dock had been built around the building, and Gavin was sure it had once looked nice before the factory was abandoned and left to fall into disrepair.

The wooden railing along the dock was splintered and broken, and Gavin saw at least one hole in the docks themselves. The factory’s front doors were chained and padlocked shut, most of the windows had been smashed out, and the paint had peeled and faded to the point where it almost didn’t look like it had ever been painted. Graffiti colored the walls, and trash and debris littered the ground.

“Dude, that place could hold a fucking jet,” Michael said beside Gavin. He was on his feet, but leaning heavily on a crutch under his arm. He’d been forced into constant bedrest by Jack the past week (along with Ray, who was still walking a little tenderly, and Gavin, Geoff, and Ryan still had Jack poking at their head injuries to make sure they were okay), but in that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit better. At the very least, Michael had ditched his sling with only minimal complaints from Jack, and his breathing seemed more even and less raspy, though he still had a few weeks until he could even remove the cast that had been thrown on his leg, and then it’d be even longer before he could walk properly again. But he was doing better.

The crew had been split into two groups to tackle the factory. Geoff, Ray, and Jack were further back, near the motorcycles, and ready to move in toward the front door as soon as they were needed. Gavin, Michael, and Ryan had been told to go around the back, so that all six of them could enter at the same time from different doors. Geoff and Jack had decided it would be best to cover all entrances, just in case there was someone lying in wait for them.

Ryan crouched silently by Gavin’s side, staring at the factory, and his face completely unreadable behind his mask. Gavin followed his gaze, wondering what Ryan was so interested in, and then he thought he caught a small movement near the back corner of the factory. His breath caught in his throat and he touched Ryan’s arm, pointing to where he’d seen it.

Nodding, Ryan stood up and announced, “I’m gonna do a quick sweep around the building, see if anyone’s out there before we move in.” He didn’t even wait for an answer before he started moving, his steps quick but quiet and his hand resting on one of his many guns.

“Just try not to shoot anyone,” Geoff advised. “We don’t want to tell everyone on the docks that we’re here.”

Ryan didn’t answer, and Gavin watched him move quickly toward the factory and then slow his pace as he reached the docks. He moved with odd little hops and skips, and Gavin assumed it was to get around holes and weak points in the docks. Not even a minute later, Ryan disappeared from view around the back of the building.

“This just seems weird, don’t you think? It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in ages,” Geoff insisted.

"I don’t know, I can’t see anything. You took the binoculars,” Ray grumbled, his voice clear through the coms.

“You don’t need binoculars. You practically have binoculars built into your gun. And we’re not far enough away that _either_ of you need them,” Jack sighed. “But I’m with you, Geoff. If they’d brought all of that stuff inside, the area in front of the doors would probably be more clear.”

“Well it has been a week, right?” Gavin said, continuing to stare at the building as he waited for Ryan to reappear. “It could have been moved. Like by the wind or something. But this is the best place, like I told you.”

Michael shrugged, scratching at his calf with the toe of his cast. “I think we should check it out. I mean, we’re already here. And how often do we get to explore an old factory like this? It’ll be sweet,” he said, grinning down at Gavin.

“I’m not saying we should go home. I just think it might be a waste of time,” Geoff answered. “You see anything there, Ryan?”

Ryan didn’t answer, and Gavin couldn’t pick out anything from him through the coms. Gavin frowned, leaning around from his vantage point behind Michael’s car to see if he could spot Ryan.

“Ryan?” Jack asked, and Gavin could hear the concern building in his voice. “Is everything okay?”

There was still no answer and Gavin’s stomach started twisting itself into knots at the continued silence. What if something had happened to Ryan that they didn’t know about? What if there were people behind the building waiting and they got the jump on him? It would have to be a lot of people, or a big surprise, to catch Ryan unawares and take him down so quietly, but Gavin was sure it was possible.

Just as Gavin was about to start demanding the Ryan answer him _right now_ and stop being a mingy little prick about it, the dark-clad Vagabond came back into sight around the other side of the building. He lifted his hand toward the crew and picked up his pace again, trotting across the docks and the debris around the factory.

Once he was about halfway back to Gavin and Michael, Ryan said, “Sorry. I was reluctant to answer just in case there was anyone around who could hear me. But it looks like the coast is clear, at least on the outside.”

“I don’t care, don’t fucking disappear anymore,” Geoff snapped, and Ryan waved his hand dismissively as he slowed and stopped at Gavin’s side.

“Okay, _dad_ ,” Ryan muttered, shaking his head and looking around at Michael and Gavin, rolling his bright blue eyes behind his mask, a motion that was far more light-hearted than any Gavin had seen from him yet. “Come on, we’re good to go. We should make it quick, just in case anyone is coming up here later tonight.”

“And please keep us updated,” Jack said. Gavin nodded, following behind Ryan as Ryan led the way. He checked behind him to make sure Michael wasn’t falling behind, and Michael flashed him a quick grin that was also a little pained. His face was already pale, since he’d refused to use both crutches in case he needed his gun, and he was jostling his leg far more than he needed to. Gavin hoped that this was a quick mission, for Michael’s sake.

Like Gavin had suspected, the docks around the building were falling apart, but there was far more than a single hole in the boards. The one he’d noticed was simply the largest, taking out almost an entire two-foot stretch. But there were a lot of smaller holes where a foot or Michael’s crutch could fall into, and Gavin kept a close eye on his friend to make sure he could navigate everything well enough.

“We’ll be around to the back in just a minute, Geoff. Ready to go when you all are,” Ryan said, pausing at the corner of the building and looking behind him. “You guys okay?”

Gavin nodded, concentrating on getting Michael around the edge of the giant gap without either one of them slipping and falling. Michael had a hand clamped down on Gavin’s shoulder, his attention fixed on the roughly held together boards beneath his feet. He moved slowly and carefully to avoid slipping, and Gavin moved with him.

“Yeah, fine,” Michael said tightly, and he didn’t let go of Gavin’s shoulder even after they were clear of the drop down into the water. His fingers were shaking and he winced when he moved his arm, and Gavin was wondering if maybe he should’ve continued to stay in bed. But Michael would never agree to that, not when everyone else was doing something.

The back of the building was in no better condition than the front. Most of the dock’s railing was missing, except for a few bits and pieces still desperately clinging to the splintered wooden boards. A door along the back wall was locked similarly to the one at the front, with a chain snaking through the door handles and a large padlock holding it closed.

While Michael leaned against the building and worked to compose himself, Ryan knelt down in front of the door, pulling out a small collection of tools from his pocket. Gavin wasn’t sure how he had room around all the guns he kept on him, and he briefly considered the possibility that Ryan had somehow found bottomless pockets and could use them instead of normal ones. How else could he carry so much shit without even one odd bulge in his jacket?

Ryan attacked the lock with a couple of picks, his tongue jutting out between his teeth in concentration. The padlock popped open within a handful of seconds, and he pulled it off and tossed it aside, gingerly removing the chain to try and minimize the noise it made.

“I didn’t know you could pick locks,” Gavin said, watching him in amazement.

“Well, sure. It’s not always breaking down doors and smashing people’s heads in, you know,” Ryan said, setting the chain down on the docks slowly. “I mean, that works really well, and it’s so much quicker and easier, but lock picking is a good skill to know.”

“Do you think you could teach me some time?” Gavin asked eagerly as Ryan stowed away his picks into his endless pocket.

“You don’t want me to teach you? That hurts, Vav. I thought we were friends,” Ray pouted, his voice pitiful and childishly upset, and Gavin couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

“Oh come on, X-Ray. You didn’t tell me you could pick locks, too!” Gavin said, and he heard Geoff huff.

“Why’d you think we split the teams like this? I thought you were supposed to know all this shit,” Geoff pointed out, and Gavin shrugged, even though only Michael and Ryan could actually see him.

“I’m sorry, but most people don’t actually have a skill list hanging out on the internet of all the random shit they learn. ‘Lock picking’ doesn’t come up as often as you may think when I run a search,” Gavin said, shaking his head. “However, I do know that Ryan can juggle.”

“What? Where did you find _that_?” Ryan demanded, turning to look at Gavin, his eyes narrowed.

“Ryan can juggle?” Ray asked as about the same time, and Gavin could hear the grin in his voice.

Gavin grinned and crossed his arms over his chest smugly. “I have my ways,” he said as mysteriously as he could. Besides, it wouldn’t be as fun if he admitted that the police had that on file after Ryan had gotten bored the last time he’d been picked up and they’d noticed his juggling skills on the cameras. Gavin actually had access to the footage, and he definitely wasn’t telling Ryan that.

“I understand lock picking, but what’d you learn to juggle for?” Jack asked.

Ryan shook his head and stood up, not looking at either of his companions anymore. “Let’s just say that stake-outs can get _extremely_ boring…” he said, grabbing the handles of the doors. “Are you guys ready to go in?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re good,” Geoff said quickly. “Let’s try and get in and out quickly, and stick together. We don’t know how trashed this place is inside, and I don’t exactly trust this building to stay in one piece. Let’s go.”

As soon as Geoff finished speaking, Ryan hauled at one of the sliding doors, straining for a moment before the door opened a little quicker and more violently than Gavin had expected. Ryan stumbled back and let go of the door, staring at it for a moment. He shook his head and pulled a small gun from his jacket, holding it ready in front of him as he started inside. Gavin started to follow, but Ryan took a quick look around and then held his arm out, blocking the doorway

“Guys, we have a problem,” he muttered, staring at something off to the side and inside the building, where Gavin couldn’t see. “We need to leave. Now.”

“Ryan, what’s wrong?” Geoff demanded.

“Just get out!” Ryan yelled, spinning and shoving Gavin backwards. Gavin fell back with a yelp and his back smacked into one of the wooden railings, and then the world exploded.

The explosion was so loud that Gavin only heard it for a second before there was nothing. Light and fire and debris flew out toward him and Gavin screwed his eyes shut, as the concussive shockwave of the blast slammed into him like a semi-truck.

For a moment, the railing behind Gavin held him in place, and then it splintered and broke and Gavin found himself flying, then falling, and then cold water slapped against his back painfully and enveloped him as his vision turned dark. The entire event had lasted only a couple seconds, and Gavin wondered faintly how a couple seconds were enough to possibly kill off the entire crew as everything faded to black.


	23. Panic and Destruction

Geoff had only made it a few steps into the building, behind Jack and Ray, when the bombs went off.

The explosions came from all directions, the loudest sound Geoff had ever heard all around him. The force of the blast threw him forward and he hit the ground hard, heat flashing across his back and debris peppering his head, his back, his legs. Concussive forces slammed into him from all directions and the ground rumbled underneath him. Bits of the building fell and crumbled, crashing to the ground nearby, and Geoff considered himself lucky as dicks that nothing that big hit him.

Really, the explosion only lasted a handful of seconds before the sound and heat died down, but the building continued to shift and crumple, and Geoff was slow to lift his face from the floor. His ears felt like they were stuffed full of cotton, and he didn’t even hear it when a section of a rusty metal walkway above their heads clattered to the ground a few feet away. All of him was sore and achy, and small cuts covered his exposed skin and stung unpleasantly.

Jack and Ray were on the ground as well, and Geoff levered himself up onto his elbows, staring at his crew members worriedly. Ray had fallen half underneath an old conveyor belt, that had somehow not crushed him. Half of it had collapsed, resting just inches from his prone body, but it didn’t look like it had injured him. He started to stir and he looked up, blinking blearily at Geoff, and then he gave a thumbs-up and a small smile.

Worryingly, Jack wasn’t moving. He was slumped against a piece of machinery, a few pieces of rubble scattered across him, and Geoff was sure he saw blood wetting Jack’s hair. Geoff called out, but he only felt a faint pressure on the inside of his ears at his words and the buzzing in his throat that suggested he really had said something, but at the moment, his hearing was still shot.

Geoff pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and crawled to Jack’s side, while Ray slowly crawled out from beneath the collapsed conveyor belt. Sitting down next to Jack, with his back pressed against the bulky machinery, Geoff reached out and shook his friend’s shoulder, shouting out his name again. This time, he heard his own voice faintly, fuzzy and distant like he had bad reception, but at least it meant he’d be able to hear again in a little while.

Ray sat up, wincing and rubbing at his back and legs, while Geoff continued shaking Jack’s shoulder more and more firmly. Fear constricted Geoff’s heart, squeezing it painfully as breaths became harder and his stomach twisted itself into knots in the onset of a panic attack.

Jack had been his friend and companion for a few years now. They’d worked together every single day since they had joined up, and they were more than just crewmates. Geoff considered Jack to be a brother at this point. It had been Jack that had gotten Geoff on track and away from the ridiculous dead-end heists and missions that he’d been stuck in a few years back. It was the two of them that had worked their asses off to find people to rely on in order to build the territory the crew held now. For years, they had worked non-stop to keep their hold, while also holding one another up.

Without Jack, Geoff would have dropped right back into haunting bars as the downtown strip’s resident drunk, ranting and raving and grabbing what he could from who he could with what little supplies he had scrounged up. Jack was the one that kept Geoff focused and kept him going, even when Geoff had considered just dropping the entire thing. It was Jack that made sure the crew was in good condition, even ignoring his own concerns and pains to do so, and he was always there with a comforting word or a kind suggestion to fix someone’s problem.

Geoff didn’t think the crew could work without Jack. He _needed_ Jack, they all did. There was no doubt in Geoff’s mind that, without his friend, they wouldn’t be able to keep Ryan around for very long or his temper down. Michael would probably let his own anger take hold and break what bonds he’d formed, without Jack there to calm him, and he’d drift off and end up bringing Ray with him. And Gavin… Gavin wouldn’t last, not without everyone else there to help the poor hacker.

No, everyone needed Jack, and they needed him _alive_.

“Jack! Come on, get your ass up!” Geoff cried, shaking him hard enough that Jack slumped sideways from where he was sitting. Ray looked around at them, eyes wide behind glasses that were now cracked and damaged beyond repair and sat crookedly on his face.

“Jack? Man, you okay?” Ray croaked, scooting closer and wincing as he moved. He knelt beside Jack, gingerly poking at the dark spot coloring his hair. He pulled his fingers back, the tips covered in blood, and gulped.

“Wake _up_ ,” Geoff barked, and his voice was just a panicked squeak, far too high pitched for a full-grown man. He smacked Jack’s cheek lightly, not wanting to do more damage than the fall already had.

Finally, when Geoff was seconds away from getting up and having a full scale breakdown somewhere that Ray couldn’t see, Jack stirred. It wasn’t much, just a small movement of his head, and his hand lifted an inch or so off the ground, but it was enough.

“Oh, my god, you’re alive,” Geoff breathed in relief, a half-hysterical laugh forcing its way out of his throat. He fell forward onto Jack, wrapping him in a hug that he tried not to make too hard or constricting, though he didn’t know how well he managed that.

“Geoff,” Jack muttered, his words weak and slurred. He touched Geoff’s hand and said, “That hurts.”

Geoff quickly got off of him, sitting on his knees and looking at Jack worriedly. The color had drained from Ray’s face and he was playing with his hoodie strings anxiously, eyes locked onto Jack. But unlike when Michael had gone down, Geoff didn’t have anything to –

“Oh, god,” Geoff croaked, the thought striking him hard, and he spun in place as if he could see the rest of his crew somewhere nearby, despite the fact that the back door was quite a ways away. “Ryan, Michael, Gavin, are you guys okay? Are you there?” He remembered Ryan’s warning, just before the explosion. Ryan must’ve been near enough to see the explosives, and Gavin and Michael had been right there with him, and now no one was answering. “Dammit, guys, answer me! You better fucking be alive right now or I’m gonna kill you myself, I swear to god…”

Ray gulped, and Geoff noticed his breathing become quicker, panicked, and his eyes widened into huge circles, giving him the appearance of a jumpy rabbit. “Michael? Gavin?” Ray whispered. “Ryan, are you there?” Geoff couldn’t even hear Ray’s soft voice through his earpiece and he ripped it out of his ear, throwing it as hard as he could. It clattered quietly somewhere out of sight, gone forever. The damn things had probably been blown out by the explosion – Gavin probably hadn’t anticipated forces such as that acting on the coms at any point.

Geoff assumed Ray’s earpiece was just as defective (they were only _defective,_ it didn’t mean anything, the rest of the crew could still be alive, but they could also be hurt and _dying_ ) because his eyes darted here and there, and he was practically hyperventilating the longer he waited. He repeated the names over and over, until it was just a babbled mantra. Jack groaned lightly, eyelids fluttering as he attempted to open them, but his movements were tiny and practically insignificant.

His own heart racing far too fast, Geoff looked between the two, temporarily at a loss. Jack was down, and though he wasn’t dead, he still had a bad head injury and he wasn’t going to be up and moving anytime soon. And Ray was going to pass out if he kept this up. Geoff himself felt sick at the thought of losing members of his crew, even an asshole like Ryan, and he didn’t know how he could do anything to fix it.

But it was also his _job_ to fix it. _He_ was the boss, making things right was _his_ responsibility. He could freak out and break down later, when he knew if his worst fears were actually true. But for now, Geoff had to be strong and decisive and a leader, dammit. If Jack were conscious enough to notice that Geoff was freezing up, when two of his crew was down and the rest were missing, Jack would’ve insisted that Geoff get his ass moving _now_.

Taking a steadying breath, Geoff pushed himself to his feet, hissing out a pained breath. All of his joints and muscles hurt, and his balance was off as he stumbled forward. But he squared his shoulders, straightened his sad and torn bowtie, and stepped up beside Ray.

Geoff reached down and rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder, squeezing lightly and pulling the sniper’s attention up. “Hey, take a breath. It’ll be fine, you just have to believe that,” Geoff said gently.

“They’re gone, Geoff. They’re gone and they aren’t answering and they’re just _not there_. They’re never not there, and the big explosion, and what if they’re _dead_ ,” Ray rambled, grabbing at Geoff’s sleeve desperately, his eyes boring into Geoff’s.

Letting out a breath, Geoff gingerly knelt down next to Ray, grabbing both of his shoulders and meeting the lad’s terror-filled eyes with the hardest expression he could muster at the moment. “Listen to me. The coms are out. The explosion killed the earpieces. We can’t know that they aren’t able to answer, not until we get up and go look for them. If they’re okay, they’re probably just as hurt and scared, and we need to find them. We _will_ find them, Ray. I’m not writing off anyone as dead until I know for sure, and you should do the same,” Geoff said levelly, forcing the nervous squeak from his voice, even though he just wanted to join Ray collapsed on the ground and desperately trying to get an answer from the rest of his crew.

But like he had just said, it wasn’t helping, and they needed to get moving.

Ray stared at Geoff’s eyes, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He nodded and let go of Geoff’s sleeve, turning away and fighting to gain control of his breathing, and Geoff dropped his hands from Ray’s shoulders.

Leaving Ray to sort himself out, Geoff moved back to Jack’s side. He put one hand on Jack’s shoulder as he looked for the source of the blood, and Jack mumbled something Geoff couldn’t make out. “Hey, save your strength. I’m just gonna fix up your head, and then we need to go,” Geoff said, finding the injury beneath Jack’s hair.

Geoff carefully parted Jack’s hair around the injury and winced. It wasn’t a huge gash, but it bled readily, and he had no idea if there was any damage to the bone beneath. It looked as if Jack had run into the corner of something, which was entirely possible. But Geoff had to stop the bleeding, or else he’d lose Jack again.

Geoff pulled his jacket off, leaving him in his dirty and torn dress shirt. Frowning, Geoff ripped the fabric of the jacket, straining to get a tear started without a knife. It took a lot more effort to tear the suit jacket than it did to tear up a T-shirt, but Geoff was motivated as dicks, and he ended up with a few strips of fabric he could use.

Most of a sleeve was used to create a pad that Geoff pressed against the injury after he tied the dark fabric strips into one long one. The string of fabric was wrapped around Jack’s head, securing the pad to it tightly, and Geoff tied off the makeshift bandages securely. It was a rush job, and they’d need to get Jack some real medical attention later, but he hoped it kept Jack from bleeding out for now.

As soon as the injury was wrapped and bound, Geoff wormed his way under Jack’s arm and attempted to haul Jack to his feet, with minimal success. Jack’s legs moved a little bit as he tried to help, but the hit to his head didn’t seem to be doing much to help his coordination, and nothing much happened except for Geoff straining his back.

“Fuck,” he groaned, wincing. “Ray, help me get him up.” Ray opened his eyes and looked over, nodding as he pushed himself to his feet. He seemed better, calmer, and though Geoff could see him shaking, he was breathing more normally and didn’t look like he was about to bolt, which was definitely a good change.

Ray got underneath Jack’s other arm, and together him and Geoff managed to get Jack upright. Ray groaned and grumbled, half-heartedly joking when he muttered, “You need to lose some weight, man.” Jack snorted, and his eyes finally opened a little bit. He looked blearily at Ray out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile beneath his beard.

“Maybe you need to work out,” he muttered, and Ray smiled thinly.

“I’ll work on that,” Ray promised, and Jack nodded lethargically. Geoff adjusted Jack’s arm over his shoulders, leaning his shoulder into his friend’s side to try and keep him up and standing. Jack really was kind of heavy, and it was very hard to keep him up without much help from him.

Though Geoff realized this is probably what he was like when he was drunk as dicks and unable to get his feet under him, and he suddenly appreciated Jack and what he did even more. No one should have to deal with this with anyone. At least Jack was out of commission because of an outside force, and not because he chose to be like Geoff did.

“Alright. We gotta find a way through this shit and to the others… Anyone have some light?” Geoff said, squinting into the ruins of the factory. Holes in the ceiling gave them a little silver light to see by, courtesy of the moon overhead, but it wasn’t spectacular. Not when it looked like they had quite the obstacle course of debris and machinery in front of them.

Ray pat down his pockets and looked at Geoff apologetically. “I lost my flashlight somewhere,” he said, readjusting his sniper rifle on his back so it wasn’t smacking into Jack as much. Geoff was honestly surprised the long weapon looked like it was in such good condition, considering all the little parts that could have fallen off or gotten damaged in the explosion. “But I think I have a lighter in one of my pockets… Hold on.”

While Ray dug around in his pockets, Geoff watched Jack to make sure his friend wasn’t fading again. Jack had managed to lift his chin from his chest a couple inches, and his eyes were half-lidded but open. As long as they could keep him conscious, Geoff thought he had a good chance of recovering. They just couldn’t let him pass out again, or else Jack might not wake up a second time.

“Aha!” Ray exclaimed, and a small light bloomed to Geoff’s right. He looked around to see Ray holding Jack’s arm in place with one hand, and his other hand was wrapped around a lit Zippo. The light wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and Geoff didn’t want to spend the time looking for a flashlight in the mess around them. Jack needed to get out of there, and they had to find the rest of the crew.

“Great. Let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of this death trap, then,” Geoff said, gingerly making his way toward the back of the factory with Jack’s weight resting on his shoulders.

At least things could only get better as they went forward, right?


	24. Where There's Smoke There's Fire

Ryan lay on his back, his entire body hurting, and he wished he didn’t have such a fucking high pain tolerance. The abuses he’d gone through in the past couple minutes would have most people unconscious, or at least numb from shock, but he felt every little injury quite clearly. It hadn’t yet built up enough to make his body start shutting down, not after all the shit he’d dealt with in the past.

His head was its own source of pain, likely from hitting it against something in the explosion. One eye was starting to swell shut, and the cut he’d sustained in the car crash had reopened as his mask sliced into his skin. One arm was crushed beneath rubble, stabbing pain lancing up and down his arm from what had to be at least a couple fractures. His back hurt and his stomach was unsettled, but the worst injury came from his leg.

Heat ran up and down his leg, centered just beneath the knee, where a length of metal – likely from one of the catwalks up above – had speared through his leg. Ryan wasn’t entirely sure how far down it had gone or the exact damage, mostly because he couldn’t get the energy to lift himself up and look. But the heat didn’t come from blood. Actually, Ryan didn’t feel blood at all. The heat of the metal must have closed up the broken veins, which at least meant that he wasn’t at risk of bleeding out.

Infection and dying in a fire, however, were still pressing concerns.

Smoke curled up into holes in the roof, and it was growing thicker and darker as Ryan watched. He could smell something smoldering, but like his leg injury, he couldn’t see it because of his current inability to move. But it was likely near the source of the explosion, and Ryan thought that was maybe still close by.

Ryan didn’t remember much of what had happened. He vaguely remembered dimly lit green numbers, and Gavin, but after that, everything was a blur until Ryan came to where he was.

His stomach rolled violently and Ryan ripped off his mask, twisting to the side just before he threw up whatever he’d had in his stomach. The sudden movement wrenched at his arm and leg, and the flashes of pain made his guts twist and tighten again. A minute later, Ryan spit the taste of bile from his mouth and lay back down. He felt cool and clammy, and he was shaking, and Ryan closed his eyes, trying to force himself to get it together. Past injuries had been nearly as bad, and he hadn’t broken then. He couldn’t do it now.

The earpiece still in his ear was emitting a low, constant buzz of white noise, but Ryan didn’t hear anything else through it. He expected to hear something, from someone – it wasn’t normal for it to be so quiet. Did anyone even make it? Or did the coms just die in the explosion?

“Anyone there?” Ryan croaked, and his voice was raspy, a combination of smoke inhalation and bile tearing up his throat. There was no answer, and Ryan chalked his tenseness and the gnawing feeling in his gut up to the concussion, the injuries, anything but worry. These idiots seemed quite fine taking care of themselves – there was no reason for him to be worrying.

Growling to himself, Ryan pulled the earpiece from his ear and tossed it. Despite that, not all of the crackling noise went away, and it took him a moment to realize he could now hear the growing fire. A faint glow cut through the darkness out of the corner of his eye, and Ryan took a steadying breath. He either needed to get ahold of someone that could help him, or help himself, before that fire started to spread.

Ryan moved slowly, trying to keep the pain from flaring up and his stomach settled. He actually kind of hoped no one was on their way to him, so none of the crew would see the great Vagabond reduced to being stuck on the ground like a bug pinned to a kid’s collection board, lying next to a puddle of his own vomit. It would probably destroy his wonderful reputation.

But at the same time, Ryan wasn’t sure how long it would take him to clear the rubble from his arm and get himself moving if he also had to stop to quiet an angry gut.

It took far longer than Ryan wanted, and he was keeping a wary eye on the growing smoke cloud and the building glow, but he finally got hold of his phone in his pocket and pulled it free. The screen was cracked and damaged, but it lit up when Ryan thumbed the button, and he could see at least half the screen. It was good enough to place a call. He hoped.

Ryan pressed call on the first name that came up, turned the volume up really high, and then let his phone lie on the ground by his head. It was easier for him to just lie still.

The phone rang five times, and Ryan was ready to start trying to move on his own, by the time the call was answered.

“Thank fucking Christ, you’re alive,” Geoff said, his voice a little too loud in Ryan’s ear. Ryan’s head pounded and he winced, but he figured he could deal with it. A headache was better than death.

“Barely,” Ryan rasped.

“Fuck, you sound bad,” Geoff said. “Oh, hey, watch your head, Jack. Help him out, Ray. I’m out of hands. What happened, Ryan?”

Ryan shook his head slightly, coughing on the thin wisps of smoke drifting over his head. “I…I think something exploded. I don’t know. I can’t think straight,” he said.

“Where are Gavin and Michael?” Geoff demanded.

“I dunno. Not here. Maybe outside?” Ryan guessed, trying to remember what had actually happened with the lads. He knew they’d been there, and Gavin had been close by, but he just couldn’t get his brain to work. It was a little infuriating. “Sounds like you guys are all alive.”

“Barely,” Geoff huffed. “Where are you, Ryan?”

“Near the back doors, I think. I…I think… Fuck. Geoff, I need your help,” Ryan said, and the words tasted bitter as they left his mouth. He’d asked for help in the past, but not for something like this, something he should’ve been able to do on his own. It was normally help with a killing spree, or a ride, or getting someone to help implement a two-man plan. Not save his fucking life.

Geoff was quiet for a moment, and Ryan turned his head to make sure the call was still connected. “We’re headed that way. Are you okay?” Geoff asked, and Ryan swore he sounded rather concerned.

“Fine, fine. Just broken, battered, stabbed, and running the risk of being lit on fire, but I’m good,” Ryan said dismissively, trying to flex his arm beneath the rubble pile. Even the small movement hurt like hell and he stopped. Just because he could deal with the pain didn’t mean he had to.

“Okay, we’re coming. Keep the call going – with the coms dead as dicks, we need another way to keep in touch. And don’t fucking die, Ryan,” Geoff said. The phone crackled, and Ryan could hear movement and muffled talking through the speaker. He wasn’t paying attention to anything that was being said, but he at least knew that someone was there if he needed them.

The smoke was growing thicker, and even lying on the ground, where the air should have been cleanest, Ryan wasn’t safe from it. It was burning his throat, his nose, his lungs, and he could now see the reaching flames, not too far away. The fire wasn’t spreading superfast – the fact that it had started on wooden boards that were above water probably helped, since Ryan was sure the boards were damp enough to at least slow the fire down – but he still needed to move. A slow spreading fire would have no trouble catching up to an immobile person.

Grabbing his mask back up from the floor, Ryan slipped it on again, hoping that the thin plastic would help keep some of the smoke away. The familiar smell of the plastic was a lot nicer than the pungent scent of smoke.

Despite Geoff’s assurances that he, Jack, and Ray were on their way, Ryan didn’t know how long it would take them to reach him. The factory was old, and had already looked ready to collapse. The dock around the building had been good proof of that. An explosion strong enough to do what it had done just in this area would likely have broken a lot more throughout the factory, and Ryan suspected the others would have a bit of difficulty making it through the rubble.

Gritting his teeth, Ryan shifted, mentally yelling at his stomach to settle the fuck down and let him move. His stomach didn’t really want to listen, but he didn’t feel the need to puke again, so he called it a victory.

Ryan pushed bits of metal, concrete, and wood off his arm as delicately as he could. Really, delicate might not have been the right word, but he was moving more gingerly than he could’ve been. But when each small movement sent pain shooting from broken bones, Ryan was wondering if slow and steady was really the best way to go. Though he also didn’t want to risk causing more damage by moving too quickly and letting something else fall on him.

Grimacing, Ryan paused in shifting the rubble to throw an arm across the holes in his mask, a painful cough rising up from his throat. He was just starting to notice the heat growing nearby, and burning embers drifted leisurely toward him. Ryan hoped that one of them didn’t find a nice, dry piece of wood even closer to him to build up from.

With the fire growing closer, Ryan moved quicker and with more desperation. He needed to get the fuck away from there as soon as he could. But his head didn’t seem to share his sense of urgency.

His head suddenly started throbbing painfully, and then his vision darkened as he tried to work on freeing himself. The darkness consumed his sight and the pain of his injuries faded away as he lost consciousness.

Ryan didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it must’ve been enough time for Geoff to find him, because he was shaken awake very roughly. An involuntary shout left his lips before he could stop himself, as his injuries pulled and twisted and hurt with the movement.

“I told you not to fucking die!” Geoff rasped, and Ryan forced his eyes open, looking up at the crew boss. Geoff had his shirt pulled up over his mouth and nose, and he was missing his suit jacket. The smoke was thick enough that it had formed a pretty solid cloud over Geoff’s head, and Ryan was uncomfortably hot where he was lying. The fire must’ve been pretty damn close.

“M’not dead,” Ryan muttered, trying to force himself as upright as he could. “Might be in a few minutes, though.”

“I can’t believe you set the place on fire,” Geoff said, turning to look behind him. “Can you see any way out, Ray? We gotta get away from this shit.”

Ray and Jack crouched behind Geoff, both of them covering their faces. Jack looked a little out of it and he kept squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them. A bandage made of dark fabric – probably Geoff’s jacket, actually – had been wrapped around Jack’s head like a weird headband.

“Think so. The smoke’s leaving through a hole in the wall not too far from here,” Ray said, pointing off to somewhere Ryan couldn’t see.

Geoff nodded, circling Ryan until he was crouched by his rubble-covered arm. “We gotta move fast. This’ll probably hurt,” he said. Before Ryan could answer, Geoff was pulling and shoving the debris away. Pain flared up Ryan’s arm, and it felt like his limb had caught on fire all on its own. His breath caught in his throat and he stiffened, fighting back the yell that wanted to escape from his chest. Spots appeared in his vision, and then suddenly he was being shaken again. Ryan blamed his concussion for all the fucking blackouts – they were becoming a real inconvenience.

“Can you walk?” Geoff asked, and Ryan gingerly levered himself into a sitting position. Everything hurt, and he really didn’t like the thought of walking on a leg that had a piece of metal jutting out of it (though it didn’t look as bad as Ryan had suspected), but there weren’t many other options. Ryan nodded.

Geoff grabbed Ryan beneath the arm and hauled him to his feet. Putting any weight on his leg hurt so bad it almost sent Ryan right back down to the ground, and he ended up leaning heavily on Geoff. “Lead the way, Ray,” Geoff demanded. Up higher from the ground, Ryan was getting a good lungful of smoke, and he choked and gagged on it, feeling ready to throw up again.

Ray and Jack hurried past them, Jack using Ray’s much smaller frame like a crutch. Despite the size difference, Ray didn’t seem to be struggling much, since he moved quite quickly away from the growing fire.

The smoke burned at Ryan’s eyes, but he forced himself to keep them open, to make sure he knew where he was going. Geoff was coughing readily, his shoulders shaking under Ryan’s arm, and Ryan’s vision kept flashing white, red, and black as he was forced to quickly and repeatedly put weight on his injured leg. His arm hung limply at his side, and even minimal movement made it scream in pain. But as long as Ryan remained conscious until they made it away from the building, he figured he’d be fine.

The hole Ray had spotted was relatively small, but smoke flowed out readily to be whisked away by the cool air. Ray crouched down and helped Jack through the small space and then slipped outside after him, quick and nimble and tiny enough that it looked really easy.

Geoff practically shoved Ryan at the opening, and he stumbled and fell to his knees when his leg gave out. The piece of metal speared through his leg was pushed in farther and Ryan shouted, as blood from newly severed veins started flowing and wetting his jeans. Grimacing, Ryan slithered through the opening, and he tried to power through the fact that his leg burned and his arm screamed in pain and his head ached. He practically collapsed as soon as he got outside, falling onto the boards of the dock and letting the cool, fresh air fill his burning lungs.

Ryan felt hands pulling at his jacket and he scooted away from the opening, using his one good leg and arm and Ray’s help to move out of the way before Geoff tripped over him. The smoke flowed over Ryan’s head, billowing up into the sky, and the fire licked up the side of the building further down, reaching out from the wide opening where the door used to be. That entire section of the factory had crumbled and broken, falling into the water, and there was no sign of Michael or Gavin anywhere.

“We gotta find the others,” Jack said, his words a little slurred and bleary, and he was looking around with panicked concern.

“Right. Let’s do it fast. Cops and fire trucks are gonna be out here in no time,” Geoff rasped.

As if to punctuate his sentence, a gunshot rang out in the night, almost drowned out by a frightened squawk that sounded an awful lot like Gavin.

“Gavin! Michael!” Ray shouted, and Ryan turned his head in time to see the lad race toward land and the sound of the gunshot, leaving the others on the dock.

“Ray, don’t go off alone!” Geoff shouted, but Ryan swore he looked ready to bolt after Ray himself. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet, hands clenched into fists, and then he grimaced and growled something to himself. “They better all be fucking alive, or I swear, I’m bringing them back and killing them all again,” he swore. “Get up, we have to go.”

Ryan pushed himself up as well as he could, while Geoff helped Jack, and he limped and hopped after the other two, that worried feeling twisting his gut again as they rushed after the lads.


	25. Out of the Frying Pan

Michael was gonna kill the fucker that tried to blow him up.

He’d been standing on the dock, giving his injuries a brief break from the strain while Gavin and Ryan checked out the entrance. Then Ryan suddenly freaked out and insisted they all needed to leave, and then the explosion had happened.

Though Michael was more than used to explosions, he still wasn’t used to having no control over them. Ryan dumbass stunts were getting to the point of being common, but not even that whack job and his rocket launcher could’ve prepared Michael for being blown off a fucking dock.

Even as Michael hit the water and started to sink beneath the waves, all he could think about was what could have caused that explosion. C4 was typically a favorite of most people who dabbled in explosives, but there must’ve been a shit ton to cause the shockwave it did. Perhaps it had been put up alongside bombs with more volatile chemicals. It would make sense – homemade bombs were often easier than obtaining that much C4.

Michael’s back hit the soft silt at the bottom of the water, a cloud exploding silently around him in mesmerizing slow motion. Some voice in the back of his mind said this wasn’t a good thing, but Michael wasn’t overly concerned. He wasn’t really uncomfortable, and if it was that bad, Gavin would probably think so, too, but Michael could see him not too far away through the hazy water, still and unmoving.

It was only when Michael took a breath that he came to his senses. Salt water rushed down his throat and into his lungs, burning like hell and creating a heavy pressure in Michael’s chest. He gagged, more water flowing into his body even as he tried to expel it. Fueled by a sudden rush of adrenaline, his need to leave, to get a real breath, to _survive_ , Michael pushed off from the sandy ocean floor. He fought to get up to the air, to safety, despite the aches and pains flaring up, and the difficulty of kicking with one leg in a cast.

Finally, as Michael’s vision became spotty and it felt like his lungs would burst and he felt the urge to just take one more breath (maybe it would be more relieving, it certainly couldn’t be worse, he’d already taken one breath and he wasn’t dead yet), Michael broke the surface of the water.

Michael coughed and gagged, water forcing itself out of his mouth and nose. Soothing fresh air filled his lungs in place of the water and Michael gulped it down, his head light and fuzzy.

A sudden though struck him, fueled by that little voice in the back of his mind, and Michael croaked out, “Gavin.” He took a deep breath and held it, forcing himself back beneath the deadly water, hoping Gavin was still where Michael had seen him, and that there was still time to do something.

Gavin was near the bottom, floating just above the silt below, his hair drifting around his head with the current. His eyes were closed, mouth open, and he wasn’t moving on his own. Michael kicked down and grabbed Gavin around the waist with one arm. Grimacing, his lungs straining and protesting, Michael hauled both of them to the surface.

Michael struggled to keep both of them above the waves, his strength waning quickly. The docks they had been standing on, which were further away than Michael had suspected, were almost completely gone. Boards and railings and supports floated in the ocean, driftwood that would likely be carried out to sea with the receding tide.

A lot of the pieces were relatively small, splintered and destroyed in the blast, but there were a couple large chunks Michael was determined to reach. Gritting his teeth and fighting with Gavin’s dead weight, Michael pushed against the tide, eyes locked onto a large board not too far off.

Michael snagged the board with his fingertips and held on with more strength than he thought he had in the rest of his body. He dragged the driftwood closer and hauled Gavin up so his head and chest rested on the wood.

“Wake up, asshole,” Michael spat, slamming his palm down on Gavin’s back as hard as he could. “You can’t die now. Not after all I’ve done to help your scrawny ass.” Every few words, Michael brought his hand down on Gavin’s back, pulling him up by his stupid dress shirt when he started to slip.

After one more solid smack, Gavin lurched and convulsed, fingers gripping desperately at the wood as he vomited water. Michael kept an arm around Gavin, holding him in place as Gavin’s body expelled the unwanted water. A minute later, Gavin slumped against the driftwood, his breathing raspy and punctuated by weak coughs as his eyes fluttered open.

“Michael. My boi,” he muttered, a small smile spread across his face. “You look like a drowned puppy.”

Michael snorted and rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself,” he scoffed, but he had to admit, he was glad to hear Gavin’s voice. If he’d waited much longer, or he’d ended up much further away, Michael was sure Gavin wouldn’t have come back.

“Think the others are okay?” Gavin coughed, his shoulders heaving under Michael’s arm. He could also feel Gavin shaking. Or was that him? He wasn’t really sure.

“I dunno. I haven’t heard anything,” Michael said, reaching up to his ear. Miraculously, the earpiece was still in his ear, but it was completely silent.

Gavin shook his head slowly. “The earpieces don’t work in water,” he said. “Didn’t think they’d need to.”

Michael frowned and looked toward the factory. Smoke was starting to darken and thicken over the roof, flowing from the building and obscuring the stars overhead. The factory wasn’t doing that before.

“Fire,” Michael rasped, and he realized his lungs were burning with every breath he took, especially the one that was still healing. “There’s a fire. They could be inside.”

Gavin lifted his head from the driftwood, and Michael felt Gavin’s legs slowly being to move beneath the water, Gavin’s foot bumping into Michael’s shin steadily.

“Bollocks,” Gavin groaned. “We gotta help them, Michael.” Gavin wriggled and twisted until most of his body was submerged again, and even his weak kicks were spinning them slowly in place. Michael took a deep breath, relishing in the salty air while he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his broken leg, and he helped Gavin get them moving.

It was slow going, both of them weak and injured and shivering as a cool breeze brushed against their wet skin. The tide worked against them, pushing them back three feet for every five feet gained. Michael wasn’t entirely sure how long it was until he kicked and his toes met with silt, but he could see the glow of the fire through the holes and cracks in the factory wall.

As soon as Michael’s knees hit the sand, he stopped, mostly lying across the wood. Gavin wasn’t moving much more himself, taking a moment to rest with his eyes closed and his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Michael reached up to brush his sadly drooping hair out of his eyes, and he was actually amazed he was still wearing his glasses. One of the arms had snapped off, and so they hung precariously from one ear and the bridge of his nose, but they were there.

“C’mon, Gavin,” Michael groaned a moment later, when he realized the sharp scent of smoke had reached his nose. He hoped that none of the others had been caught in that. He knew Ryan had been pretty damn close to the entrance, but Michael didn’t remember if he’d been inside or outside the building. But not even that asshole deserved to die in a fire from an explosion. That was just cruel.

Though if he’d been outside still when the bomb went off, that meant Michael had left him somewhere in the water. Michael wasn’t sure which was worse.

Gavin groaned and muttered something unintelligible as he slowly slid off the driftwood, splashing into the water on his hands and knees. He dragged himself up to the shore, and Michael followed his lead, until both of them were collapsed on the strip of sand near the destroyed dock, both trying to work up the energy to go help their friends.

Out of the water and completely drenched, Michael was starting to shiver uncontrollably beneath the chill breeze. Maybe if they got closer to the fire, it would warm them up. Though they’d also run the risk of burning to death, especially since neither of them was moving very fast, but still. It’d be warm for a little bit.

Moaning and groaning to himself, Michael forced himself up, his various healing injuries numbed from the cold. He was pretty sure that was the only reason he managed to lever himself to his feet and remain standing, even with some weight pressed down on his broken leg. Somehow, he managed to lean down and help Gavin get to his feet without falling over, and Michael considered that to be a success. Sure, he’d probably need even more time off his leg because he was probably damaging it, but at the moment, it didn’t feel _too_ bad.

Gavin and Michael leaned against each other, both accepting the support the other provided, and each of them had an arm wrapped around the other’s shoulder. Again, moving was slow going as they tried to help each other up the small slope toward the parking lot and the start of the docks. Michael’s feet kept slipping in the sand, and he hopped every other step, occasionally threatening to pull Gavin down along the way. Gavin himself was rather unsteady, weaving and tripping over his own feet like a drunkard.

Finally, they managed to hit the pavement, and Michael was wondering how likely it would be that they could get anywhere near the others at their current speed, before the fire ate everything. Just sitting and waiting for people to show up, while nerve wracking and tense, would at least be manageable. And Jack could get less upset about how much Michael was walking without a crutch that wasn’t a sickly Gavin.

It turned out that it didn’t matter much what Michael wanted to do. Someone was waiting for them when they turned around the corner of the building, to the entrance, and it wasn’t one of the crew.

Scarface, the fucking asshole that had tried to abduct and hunt down Gavin and seemed to pop up fucking everywhere, stood only a few feet away with a gun in hand. He turned his head and smiled, apparently unsurprised to see the two stumbling around the corner. Gavin froze abruptly, and Michael nearly tripped over his leg in the process, banging his cast on the hard ground. He only felt the faintest flare of pain, beneath the numbing cold that had become his entire body, but Michael was sure that it would hurt like hell once he warmed up.

If Scarface even gave them a chance to get that far.

That taunting smile stuck in place, Scarface lazily lifted his gun at the pair. “Y’know, I told the Corpirate it wouldn’t work. At least one of you rats would come crawling out of the wreckage. He didn’t believe me and said not to bother sticking around, but it’s a good thing I’m not a very good listener. Besides, someone has to finish the job he started.”

Michael gulped as Scarface, slowly and deliberately, moved the gun so it was pointed directly at Michael’s chest. The healing gunshot wound from the Corpirate burned and throbbed, likely more of memory pain than real pain at the moment, but it didn’t make Michael feel much better.

Gavin’s eyes widened and he looked briefly at Michael. And then he did something Michael wouldn’t have expected.

Gavin, the scrawny hacker who couldn’t shoot the broad side of a barn and probably couldn’t even take out Ray in a fair fight, the useless little idiot who needed a babysitter just to go to the fucking store and who crashed his vehicle without even trying, rushed at Scarface with a wordless challenge that sounded a little like a frightened baby bird.

“Gavin!” Michael shouted, wobbling in place without his supporting friend, as Scarface whipped the gun around and fired. The gunshot cracked through the night and Gavin squawked in surprise but kept going, apparently unharmed as he plowed into Scarface.

Michael tried to hurry to his friend’s aid, images of Gavin getting shot or gutted then and there flashing through his mind, but his broken leg refused to support him any longer. His leg gave out and Michael crumpled to the ground with a frustrated shout, reduced to only being able to watch his friend.

Somehow, Gavin had managed to latch himself onto Scarface’s back, his legs wrapped around the man’s waist, one arm around his throat. The other hand was grabbing at the gun that Scarface was attempting to hit him with, while Scarface also attempted to pry Gavin off of him. It wasn’t a quiet struggle, either. Scarface growled and swore and kept up a stream of threats and profanities while Gavin let out scared bird sounds, his eyes wide and huge, and his free arm flailing almost randomly for the gun.

“Gavin!” Ray shouted, and Michael looked around quickly as his friend and partner tore around the corner of the building, pulling his gun from his hoodie pocket. Ray looked a little battered and rough around the edges, his clothing darkened and singed and his skin covered in soot and ash, but his teeth gleamed white behind it all as he snarled and raised his gun.

Ray fired two quick bursts, and blood sprayed from Scarface’s head, red covering Gavin’s arm and cheek. Scarface swayed for a second like in a cartoon and then toppled backward, Gavin’s weight pulling him down. Gavin shouted as he landed heavily on the ground, the Corpirate’s dead lackey on top of him.

“Get him off!” Gavin shouted, squirming and struggling and doing very little to actually fix his situation. And despite everything that was going on, Michael couldn’t help it – he started laughing, loudly and with no regard for the pain that went through his lungs each time he had to take a breath.

“Are you guys okay?” Geoff asked, coming around the corner himself with Ryan stumbling along at his side. Jack trailed along behind, and none of them looked all that great. Geoff had lost his jacket, and his white dress shirt had turned gray and grimy. Jack had a makeshift fabric bandage wrapped around his head like he was some kind of ninja warrior, and Ryan had a piece of metal jutting out of his leg. But they were all alive and moving, so there was that.

Michael probably should have been concerned about the state of his crew members, or about Gavin being stuck under a dead body, or the approaching sirens that were growing in the distance. Yet he was distracted by Gavin’s ridiculous noises and shitty attempts at moving Scarface’s corpse, and it was damn near impossible to stop laughing at this point.

“I dunno. I think Michael lost his mind,” Ray said, watching Michael warily as he stepped over to help Gavin. Ray planted a foot on Scarface’s side and shoved, and with the help of Gavin’s wild flailing, easily rolled Scarface’s dead body aside. Gavin scrambled away from the corpse, gasping for breath and occasionally coughing.

“Maybe we should just put him down. Put him out of his misery,” Ryan suggested lightly.

“Maybe I’ll just put you down. Hard on your broken ass,” Geoff threatened, and Ryan lifted one hand in a half shrug. Michael just laughed harder, flopping down on his back in the parking lot, his chest burning and aching and his body flaring up in pain all around him, but he really didn’t give a shit.

Somehow, miraculously, the entire crew had managed to survive a fucking factory exploding around them, and get rid of one of the assholes trying to make their lives a living hell. So maybe Michael sounded like he had completely lost his mind. But he thought he was perfectly justified in doing so.


	26. Caught

Ray frowned and shifted uncomfortably, the cuffs around his wrists digging into his skin painfully. Though his head ached, his ears were ringing, his lungs burned, and pretty much all of him was sore, so at least this new discomfort wasn’t too bad comparatively.

It would’ve been better if they hadn’t been arrested in the first place, but at this point, there was little enough any of them could do about it.

Jack and Gavin, at least, had managed to clear the area before emergency services arrived. Despite their own injuries, they were far more mobile than everyone else. They could at least walk without assistance or without being weighed down by one of the crew. Geoff had had to help Ryan, who could barely move on his own, even though Ray was sure he’d try if Geoff let him. Michael had needed help up off the ground, and Ray had been supporting a good part of his friend and partner’s weight on his shoulders as Michael limped along, wheezing and struggling for breath after his laughing fit.

The four of them were only halfway across the lot and to the cars, where Gavin and Jack were waiting, by the time the emergency vehicles arrived. A firetruck, an ambulance, and three police cars had torn around the sharp bends that made up the dock’s roads and came to an abrupt stop in front of the injured crew.

Typically, it wouldn’t have been an issue. They could have hauled ass, guns blazing and leaving explosions in their wake, likely with someone in pursuit but that was easily manageable. But that only worked if they had the capability of movement and the resources. As it was, half of them couldn’t walk, Ryan nearly passed out against Geoff reaching for a weapon, Michael seemed to be without one entirely, and Ray only had his pistol at hand. The sniper on his back was useless without at least some cover fire, protected ground, and the ability to get it _off_ his back without having to untangle the strap from Michael’s arm over his shoulder.

Despite that, Ray had raised his gun as the cops jumped out of their cars, guns of their own raised and trained on the four crew members. Ray was a good shot, he could _maybe_ make the cops think twice and pause long enough to get them gone. But he had caught Geoff’s eye, seen the small frown and slow shake of the crew boss’s head that told Ray to stand down, and Ray had slowly let the gun fall from his fingers.

As much as Ray thought going out in a blaze of glory would be a great way to go, gunned down while facing the cops or another crew during some grand heist or plot, he had to admit that wouldn’t be the case here. There wouldn’t be a spectacular firefight of the ages, a large show that would be talked about long after he was gone. It would be a slaughter, pure and simple. Maybe briefly mentioned on the news when the media reached the factory to cover the explosion, but the Fake AH Crew would be all but wiped out with a few shots and unheard protests. It wasn’t how they were supposed to go.

The cops had quickly taken the opportunity to move in on the crew. Michael and Ryan had been moved away from Ray and Geoff and brought directly to the paramedics. The sniper had been pulled off of Ray’s back and his pistol had been grabbed up before his arms had been pulled behind his back and the cuffs had wrapped around his wrists. Geoff tiredly griped at the cops to be careful, and did they really have to search him that roughly, there was an explosion and he hurt.

It was decided that they were to wait for a second ambulance, so there was a gurney for Michael (Ryan was given priority due to the piece of metal sticking out of his leg), and Ray and Geoff could be examined at the hospital. So Ray and Geoff had been put in the back of a cop car and left there while the fire fighters worked on trying to put out the factory, a couple of the cops talked over Scarface’s dead body, and a couple more watched over Michael and Ryan while the paramedics worked.

It looked like Ryan had nearly lost consciousness, lying still and quiet on the wheeled gurney. Ray could see the blood soaking his pants around the metal rod, and his broken arm was lying across his stomach. One of the cops cuffed him to the gurney and Ryan didn’t move. In fact, he did absolutely nothing until one of the paramedics reached up to remove his mask.

Before the man’s fingers could touch the skull, Ryan’s hand shot up to grab at the paramedic’s arm. His movement was brought up short by the cuffs, but that, coupled with Ryan jerking away, startled the paramedic and sent him jumping back. Geoff huffed out a laugh as Ryan lifted his head and glared darkly at the paramedic.

One of the officers forced Ryan back down on the gurney with a hand to his chest, and Ray watched as Ryan tried to bat the cop away using his broken arm and then slumped back and went still, likely in pain. The cop’s hand never left Ryan’s chest, and Ray saw his other hand close to his gun. They seemed more than a little jumpy, even dealing with an injured and mostly incapacitated crew. It was more than a little amusing.

The front door of the car opened and snapped closed a moment later. Ray didn’t look over, instead watching as a cop tried and failed to talk to Michael. His friend only grinned cheekily at the officer or rolled his eyes, and the cop was getting visibly frustrated, raking his hand through his hair and scowling as he kept talking.

“Ramsey. Why am I not surprised to see you and yours hanging around an exploded factory?” the cop in the car asked dryly.

“Burnie! It’s been a while, now, hasn’t it? How’re things?” Geoff answered cheerfully, and Ray finally pulled his attention away from the window, looking through the grate that separated the front and back seats of the car. One of the main detectives that had been on their tails since the train station explosion, if not sooner, sat in the driver’s seat of the car. He had twisted around in the seat to look at the back, and he just looked tired and exasperated.

“You and your new crew have been causing all kinds of problems recently, Ramsey,” Burnie said, looking back at the factory and then between Ray and Geoff. “Where’s Pattillo? I’m surprised he’s not with you.”

“He’s somewhere,” Geoff said vaguely, shrugging and offering Burnie a taunting smile. “What, you sick of my company? I know I might not be as fun to talk to as Jack, but that hurts.”

“Who’re your new friends?” Burnie asked, though the question seemed to mostly be directed at Ray, who smiled widely. He would’ve waved if his hands had been in front of him and Burnie could see the motion.

“Hispanic at the disco,” Ray said automatically, spitting out one of the codenames he’d used in the past that he had been particularly proud of. Geoff barked out a laugh and Burnie scowled, apparently not as amused as the other two were.

“Do you only recruit people who don’t know how to answer direct questions, Ramsey?” Burnie sighed, and Geoff shrugged again.

“It’s a special kind of talent,” he said cheerfully and Ray rolled his eyes as he looked back out the window. The fire had nearly been put out, smoke billowing up and covering up the stars, and a second ambulance was rolling up with its lights flashing. Ryan held his mask to his chest, an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, as the paramedics lifted the gurney up into the first ambulance. The officer that had been standing close to Ryan climbed into the back of the ambulance with them.

“I feel like this may be a waste of time at the moment, but can you tell me what you and your crew were doing around here, Ramsey?” Burnie asked. The beginning of his question was mumbled, and it sounded to Ray like he was almost resigned in the fact that Geoff wouldn’t answer how Burnie wanted.

Again, Geoff shrugged, wiggling around in the seat as if he wanted to do some other kind of gesture, but he was also restricted by the handcuffs as Ray was. “Oh, you know. Just hanging out. Enjoying a drink. Nothing out of the usual,” he said dismissively.

Burnie opened and closed his mouth for a moment, looking from Geoff to the factory. Finally, after stammering out a couple incoherent syllables, he managed to stammer out, “Nothing out of the usual? There is a building on fire and a dead man with two bullet holes in his head! That’s about as far from usual as you can get, even for you.”

“I had nothing to do with either of those things. We’re innocent bystanders,” Geoff said automatically. Technically, he wasn’t wrong – he had nothing to do with Scarface’s death. That had been all Ray, and he didn’t regret it for a second. He was actually wondering why they hadn’t done that sooner.

Ray settled back in the seat as comfortably as he could, leaning his head against the headrest and closing his eyes. The ambulances clicked on their sirens and Ray could hear them pulling away from the factory, and Burnie didn’t hesitate too long in following. The cop car rumbled to life around Ray and that, coupled with an exhaustion that was likely part adrenaline crash and part a result of the explosion throwing him around, quickly put Ray to sleep.

He was woken again much too soon, by Geoff nudging him firmly with his shoulder. The softer, flickering light of the factory fire and the grating red and blue emergency lights were gone, replaced by harsh white fluorescent light. Ray blinked rapidly, trying to wake himself up as Burnie opened up the back door of the car.

Burnie grabbed Ray by the elbow, gently helping Ray out of the car. It might’ve been the fact that he had actually had a moment to stop and sit down and not fight for his life, but Ray realized that the dull ache had risen to a burning throb in most of his body. He winced at moving, his head hammered in time with his heartbeat, and his vision swam for a moment. His chest burned and Ray coughed, hoping he could get the last remnants of smoke from his system, though it really just sounded like he was going to cough up a lung.

The coughing died away after a short time, but the ache remained in Ray’s chest and another cough tickled the back of his throat. He grimaced, wishing his had his hands free to just rub at his chest, even if it wouldn’t work, and he caught the worried glance Geoff shot his way over the top of the cop car. Another officer was by Geoff’s side, as Burnie was beside Ray, and the two of them were led into the building.

The doors of the hospital slid open in front of them, and despite the late hour, the emergency room’s waiting area was quite busy. Nurses and doctors walked purposefully through the space, occasionally stopping to speak to someone sitting there, sometimes going past with a patient close by. People had camped out on the hard plastic seats of the waiting room, while others waited to be seen to.

Ray and Geoff got more than a few wary or curious looks as they entered. Ray didn’t exactly blame them. The two of them were handcuffed, flanked by cops, at least a few shades darker than normal due to smoke residue and soot, and bruised and scratched and beat up beneath all of that. It wasn’t quite as interesting as the napping family in the corner or the kid with a bad case of chicken pox.

Likely because of the police presence, Ray and Geoff were checked in and led back to exam rooms with a speed that had only been bested when he’d come into the hospital with a bullet wound above his heart. Ray didn’t see Ryan and Michael anywhere, and he had to assume they’d already been brought in. Traveling in an ambulance generally meant being seen to quickly.

The examination rooms were small affairs, and though Ray and Geoff were separated into individual rooms, there was only a curtain between them and Ray could hear Geoff gleefully antagonizing others quite clearly.

A nurse came by and asked that Ray change into a hospital gown. Burnie was reluctant to remove Ray’s cuffs, but Ray mildly pointed out that it’d probably be harder for the doctors to finish quickly if his hands were trapped behind his back, and did Burnie _really_ expect anything to happen? Ray was suffering from smoke inhalation and the concussive force of an explosion acting on his body, and he was without any weapons. It would be fine.

Burnie reluctantly undid the handcuffs and stepped outside to let Ray change. Despite the aches and pains, Ray managed to exchange his hoodie and jeans for the gown swiftly. He glanced at the curtains that closed off the little room from the bustling hallway, through which he could hear various conversations, people moving, the beeping of machinery and squeaking of wheels going by. There wasn’t any indication on where Burnie was or how soon he would come back, however, so Ray made sure to move quickly.

Even though he’d been searched when the cops had gotten them, it hadn’t been a thorough search – they had apparently been more worried about various weapons than anything. His phone and wallet had been left alone (though he suspected that wouldn’t be the case for long), which was perfect. Ray dug his wallet out of his pants pocket and slipped it beneath the blanket on the hospital bed. That wallet held not only a couple punch cards for various businesses and the small amount of money he carried with him most places (credit cards were traceable and it was easy to access the accounts they were connected to; he tried to keep them out of his wallet when possible), but also a couple of his lock picks.

If he could keep that wallet close at hand, Ray suspected they had a chance of getting away from the cops. They’d just have to make sure Michael and Ryan could get out, too.

Ray threw himself down onto the bed, covering up small lump in the blanket from his wallet, just before Burnie pushed his way back inside. The movement made Ray’s head spin and his chest tightened, a wracking cough rising up once more.

“Hey, Burnie, stop killing my friend!” Geoff called through the dividing curtain, though his own voice was hoarse and strained. The smoke had definitely gotten to him, too, even if he wasn’t reacting quite as strongly or visibly as Ray was.

“I’m not the one killing people around here, Ramsey,” Burnie scoffed, pulling his cuffs out again and securing Ray to the railing of the bed.

Ray glanced down at the cuffs and then up at Burnie, one eyebrow raised, his more mobile hand rubbing at his aching throat. “Really? C’mon, man, I’m not exactly going anywhere in a hospital gown,” Ray griped, but Burnie just shrugged.

From there, it didn’t take too long to get fully checked in. A nurse came around and started asking questions, filling out their paperwork. Ray and Geoff, however, weren’t exactly the most helpful patients.

“What’s your name?” one of the nurses asked, and Ray grinned.

“Hispanic at the disco,” he said automatically. “Brownman. Tafkar. Roy.” He cycled through various codenames he’d used in the past, and the nurse continued to look more and more lost and unsure as he continued. Burnie finally snapped for him to shut up, and told the nurse to just pick a name and they could fix it after Ray’s identity had been properly verified.

In the next little room over, Ray heard the nurse ask if Geoff had any allergies to anything.

“Yeah, uh, I’m actually allergic to the metal in handcuffs. My wrist is burning something awful,” Geoff whined.

“Don’t you dare uncuff him,” Burnie hollered without a second’s hesitation. “I don’t care if he says his hand is going to fall off. He’s been in this position often enough; I think I’d be well aware if that was at all true.”

“How would you know, Burnie? When was the last time you removed my cuffs and actually looked at my wrist?” Geoff asked. Burnie opened and closed his mouth a few times, and ended up grumbling something to himself and pushing his way into the next exam room to continue the argument in person.

That dispute lasted another ten minutes, and ended with Burnie growling to not _touch_ the cuffs and don’t listen to Geoff, before Burnie stepped away for a few minutes.

Along with all of the hospital’s paperwork and such, the cops had their procedures they were following as well. Ray was fingerprinted (it was done three times, because he kept dragging his finger across the paper at the very end and smudging the prints into uselessness), and Burnie kept trying to get answers to his questions from either of them. Ray offered the most outlandish explanations he could think of (“Who says we killed the dude? It could’ve been an accident. Hunting trip gone wrong.” “Explosion? Something exploded? How did I miss this?”) while Geoff kept changing the subject and rambling about things that were in no way related to the investigation.

Somehow, in the middle of all of that, Ray managed to interject, “So where are our friends?”

The nurse paused in writing down Ray’s symptoms, looking over at him with a look that wasn’t quite confusion – they had been talking long enough that her confusion had faded into some kind of acceptance. “Your friends?” she asked, glancing over at Burnie.

“The other two that were brought in from the dock explosion,” Burnie sighed after a moment. “They also would have entered with police escorts.”

Nodding, the nurse turned back to the computer, completing the little highlighted box on her form. “They’re being seen to right now. I know one of them has been brought to surgery,” she offered, and then she moved on to asking about how bad the pain in Ray’s head was.

Ray answered her questions, mulling things over as he did, and as well as his pounding mind would let him. It had been mentioned that he and Geoff would likely be admitted for observation, due to the large amount of smoke and chemicals they had inhaled and the multiple coughing fits Ray had broken down into. But if they were admitted, it was more time that they had under minimal guard and without steel bars blocking an exit. Made it easier to make a break for it.

The problem would be getting Michael and Ryan. Ray wasn’t sure where they were exactly or in what condition they would be in. He hoped that Geoff had some ideas, or that Gavin and Jack were in positions to help, cause at the moment, he wasn’t coming up with many options that got all four of them away from the cops alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was an interesting chapter to try and write up once all my IRL shit died down a bit, especially because these assholes weren't supposed to get caught. But y'know, these things happen, and it works in my favor anyway. I hope you guys enjoyed, and with any luck, it won't be so long between updates again.


	27. Tank

Gavin watched, still and quiet, as the majority of the crew dealt with the police. He and Jack had managed to get out of sight behind Michael’s car moments before emergency services came into view, and Gavin had to thank the sirens for that. Without the warning, he and Jack would probably have been spotted and stopped, too.

But it was a very small victory as Gavin watched his friends and fellow crew members get taken away. He could only watch over the hood of Michael’s car as Ray and Geoff were locked in the back of a police car. As Ryan was helped onto a gurney and later moved into the back of an ambulance. As another ambulance pulled up for Michael, and then all four of them were gone.

Gavin wanted to help, to be the hero for once, to save the day without needing to be saved himself. Anyone else would have been able to come up with some spur of the moment plan that could get everyone out more or less in one piece. They could do these grand things that Gavin just couldn’t, not with his poor aim and combat skills and driving ability. Anything he could do required electronics, or some more solid form of a plan, which was far from helpful in this situation.

As Gavin watched the ambulances and one of the cop cars pull away, a sudden thought struck him that made his heart clench and stomach twist itself into knots. He sank down to fully sit on the ground, back pressed against Michael’s front tire and eyes locked on a spot of asphalt but seeing nothing as he started shaking.

It was all his fault.

He fucked up. _Another_ problem had come up, another _big_ one, and Gavin was to blame. Somehow no one blamed him for Michael nearly dying, but it would be impossible for them not to get mad at him for this. Everyone had been really hurt, and now caught, and the only other one who was free was also badly hurt and listless and not good and god, Gavin had fucked up _so bad._

Gavin should’ve realized it was a set-up, he should’ve _known._ It was all too easy, too convenient. Sure, it had taken some time to find the place, but that had mostly been due to a late, last-ditch attempt and processing speed. Once Gavin had found the start of the paperwork trail, following it had been _easy_ , child’s play really. It shouldn’t have been that easy, not after how much he’d struggled to find simple documents, but he’d been so pleased to find _something_ that he hadn’t even thought about it.

He hadn’t done too much recon beforehand, not really. A quick look at the dock’s security cameras to see what the place was like, if it was big enough to house all the crew’s things. There was one point where he saw Scarface lurking around the factory. But Gavin didn’t go too far back, not after getting proof they’d been there at all. He never saw them load anything into the factory, never even caught when the explosives were planted. If he had only been more thorough, had fully done his job and asked Geoff to wait just a little bit longer before storming the place, everyone would be fine.

But now their main lead was up in flames. Michael was probably worse again, Ryan looked near death, Geoff and Ray hadn’t been in great shape, Gavin nearly drowned, and Jack was sitting back against the car, unmoving and with his head bowed and a hand over his eyes. And now most of them were _arrested_ and _dying_ and him and Jack were probably close to joining them, because some of the cops and firefighters and paramedics were _still there_.

The people who knew what to do were either gone or incapacitated, and Gavin didn’t know how to fix it. How to fix the mistakes he made, his negligence, his fuck-ups. He just couldn’t, not now, not with nothing to go off of and so many immediate problems and with his head still thick and heavy and full of water as it was.

A hand on Gavin’s knee pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the real world once more. He hadn’t realized he had started hyperventilating, his breath coming in short gasps and chest tight. His eyes were wide, flicking amongst nothing on the asphalt, and he was shaking. Jack’s hand on his leg tightened and Gavin looked over, struggling to control his breathing as his head became light and his vision spotted.

“Gavin,” Jack mumbled, and though he seemed to be having a bit of trouble focusing, the concern was still clear in his eyes. “Gavin, come on, we have to move. They’re going to be over here soon.”

Gavin shook his head slowly, his brain still racing. Why? Why did they have to leave? It wasn’t like the two of them could get very far anyway, and there wasn’t anywhere to go. And if they got caught, at least they’d be with the rest of the crew. The crew didn’t deserve to be there at all, it should’ve been Gavin who got caught because of his stupid mistakes. He should’ve been behind to help Michael, not running off like a coward. It would be fitting for him to get noticed and caught along with them. Maybe it’d be easier.

Jack shook his leg and Gavin blinked rapidly, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. “Does your phone work?” Jack asked, slowly and carefully, and it sounded like it wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Gavin reached for his pocket, hands shaking enough that it took him a few tries to manage to reach into his pocket and grab his phone.

The device was soaked from its unexpected dunk in the ocean, and it refused to turn on when Gavin hit the button, even though it should have had a nearly full charge. He’d probably have to try throwing it in a bowl of rice, though at this point, it was probably easier for him to try and get a new phone.

Gavin shook his head, setting his phone on the pavement. “It’s dead,” he mumbled, and the words were hard to force out between his gasping breaths. He closed his eyes, curling in on himself and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes as he tried to regulate his breathing again.

Jack’s hand never left his leg, squeezing gently, but it was far too soon when the touch became more urgent and hard. “Gavin, we have to go. They saw the cars. Gotta go to a…a payphone or something. Get a ride. Make a plan,” Jack said, and his words were slurred and jumbled and hard to understand at first, but he was right.

As Gavin calmed his breathing a little bit, he became more aware of his chest burning after his near-drowning, and he was desperately in need of some rest. He also realized Jack might have a point, Gavin was being stupid. Sure, it was still his fault, but getting caught wouldn’t fix it. If he wanted anyone to forgive him and he wanted to correct his mistakes, he had to _do_ something about it.

Moving was a good first step. Gavin could call…someone. Jeremy, maybe, since Gavin didn’t quite remember which safe house Kerry and Caleb were at, or if they’d even answer the phone. But someone could get him and Jack out of there, and then they could do an actual plan, something Gavin was good at. It would still have to be quick, faster than Gavin would prefer, but they could do _something_. If they could just get away from the authorities.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin turned to peer over the hood of Michael’s car again. The fire was dying down under the pressure of the fire hose, and thick smoke billowed out from the factory, spreading toward the firefighters and officers. Scarface’s body had been removed from the asphalt in front of the factory, and the officers remaining were talking amongst themselves, occasionally gesturing to the car and motorcycles Gavin and Jack sat behind.

Another breath helped to even Gavin’s and he fell forward onto his hands and knees. “Can you move?” he gasped out to Jack, the words hurting his throat and chest as they left him. Jack nodded and slowly shifted, wincing and putting a hand up to his head. He quickly shook himself and frowned, hand pulling away from his bandaged head.

Gavin watched him for a moment, wondering if he was okay, just how badly Gavin’s screw ups had injured him. He wasn’t in great shape, that was for sure, and Gavin felt very guilty about letting him even get to that point.

Jack nodded and gestured ahead and Gavin started crawling away as quietly as he could. The hard cement that made up the docks hurt his knees and scraped at his hands, but there were large crates and storage buildings and cranes and large vehicles to move around behind, further from the factory. If they could just slip away behind those, they could move more freely, out of sight of the cops.

The shaking in Gavin’s arms and legs wasn’t helpful for getting away, it felt like he was close to collapsing every time he moved, but he kept himself going forward. Jack stayed close enough that his elbow brushed against Gavin’s leg, letting Gavin know he was close by without having to turn around.

The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles threw their shadows ahead of them in quick pulses, long, black lines that pointed the way to their escape. Gavin kept as quiet as possible, his shoes occasionally scratching across the hard ground, every breath rasping and strained and rattling up out of his chest, but he was pretty sure his noises were drowned out by the conversations and crackling fire they were leaving behind them.

It felt like ages until Gavin and Jack managed to get away from the vehicles and crawl behind a collection of giant storage containers. They must not have been noticed, or else someone would have shouted and come after them, and Gavin stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His chest didn’t feel great, it was hard to get a breath, even after he’d stopped hyperventilating and was able to breathe a little more normally. He had to hope it’d pass, that there weren’t complications from inhaling so much water, because they had to go.

Jack sat back against the shipping container, leaning his head back against it and rubbing at his eyes with his palms. It was hard to tell in the dim light coming from the scant lampposts scattered around the dock, but Jack seemed a little pale. He reached up to absently touch at the fabric around his head, and Gavin couldn’t tell if he was bleeding at all because it was so dark.

“Think there’s a payphone around here?” Gavin asked after a moment of just listening to the two of them breathe under the more distant flames. Jack didn’t move much more than a small shake of his head, and his words were muffled behind his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I…don’t know,” he muttered, and Gavin tried to remember if he’d noticed any on his search of the property. But not only were payphones not as prevalent anymore, he also hadn’t been on the lookout for them earlier. Playing Where’s Waldo with payphones wasn’t generally how Gavin spent his time when he was trying to collect info on a job. “You should go look. Find something. I’ll wait here.”

Gavin looked around at Jack, gnawing on his lower lip. “But what if they find you after I leave? I gotta be here to make sure you’re okay. Make sure…make sure I don’t mess it up and lose you, too,” Gavin sighed.

Jack frowned and dropped his hands from his face, looking at Gavin with tired sternness. “You didn’t mess it up,” he said. “And we didn’t lose anyone. It was a trap, it was…it was sabotaged, and we’re gonna get them back. You’ll see. Just gotta get a ride away. Then we can help them. I don’t know if there’s a payphone.”

Jack’s words trailed off into a quiet, almost confused mumble as he looked around them. Gavin had to wonder how hard Jack had hit his head, and how bad the likely concussion was, to make him this out of it. Jack was always so composed and sure of everything, and seeing him this poorly off wasn’t making Gavin feel much better. Because it meant Jack was really badly off, and Gavin was to blame.

But if Gavin didn’t get up and moving and looking for some way to contact _someone_ , he could lose Jack just to his concussion. If it was that bad, he had to get something done about it sooner rather than later.

So Gavin let out a sharp breath and pushed himself upright. His legs were weak and rubbery but he remained upright, albeit with the help of the cold metal of the shipping container under his hand. Jack looked up at him and then glanced around, eventually leaning over to grab a decent-sized rock in his fist.

“Just in case,” Jack said with a strained smile, gesturing toward the rows of containers. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”

Gavin hesitated for just a moment, wondering just how effective a single rock would be against anyone who found Jack, since they’d likely be armed with guns, but then he nodded and pushed himself upright. The longer he stood around, the more likely it was that someone would find them.

Walking was an interesting ordeal when Gavin’s limbs felt like jelly and almost not quite part of him, but he managed to stumble along well enough. His chest was starting to ache more as time went on, and Gavin really hoped drowning hadn’t fucked something up, because he needed to breathe. It was important.

But so was finding a way to get help.

With no real idea of where he was going, Gavin took turns between shipping container rows at random, hoping he’d get some sign or hint of a payphone or something nearby. He tried keeping track of where he’d been, so he could get back to Jack, but after a minute he was starting to wonder if this had been the best course of action. The docks weren’t small by any means; it was easy to get lost.

The final corner Gavin rounded brought him within inches of running directly into a cop. The man let out a surprised shout and Gavin stumbled back a step, tensing as he prepared to run. Even half-drowned, he was probably lighter on his feet than the officer in his gear, and there were enough metal containers nearby that could keep Gavin from being shot if he took refuge behind them.

But the cop didn’t look ready to shoot. His hand hovered near his gun but he didn’t remove it from its holster, and he seemed a little suspicious of Gavin but not overly so. He narrowed his eyes slightly, taking in Gavin’s soaked clothes and dripping hair.

“Sorry about that,” the officer said, tilting his head. “Are you okay, sir? You look like you’ve been having a rough night.”

Gavin hesitated a moment, stories and options running through his head. It would be safest to leave, make up some excuse or just run, get away from the officer before he was found out and before they realized the rest of the crew was still around. That discovery would lead them to Jack eventually, and Gavin didn’t want to be the reason he was grabbed, too. Though he knew the officer at least had a phone, and if he played it right, he might have a chance to use that instead of continuing his search…

If need be, “run” was always a viable option in the near future.

“Yeah, I’m top,” Gavin said with a weak smile, running a hand through his wet hair. “I just…I dropped my phone in the water. I fell in trying to grab it. Rotten luck, really.”

The officer nodded slowly, his gaze shifting to the area around them. He didn’t look like he quite believed Gavin, but there wasn’t enough distrust for him to pull a weapon. Gavin idly wondered if it was common for people to fall into the ocean around here or not.

“That is some poor luck, to be sure,” the cop agreed. “But what were you doing out here in the first place? It’s a little late for most business.”

With little time to think up a more convincing story, Gavin jumped for a classic, sighing, “My dog ran off. A friend of mine was walking him and I got a call he was gone. I was trying to figure out where to meet my friend when I dropped my phone. Don’t even know if they’re still around here anymore. I’ve walked around this damn place long enough; you’d think I’d have found them.”

“Why don’t you come with me? We can get you home safely and you can keep looking tomorrow. I’m sure your dog couldn’t have wandered far; perhaps your friend has already caught up with him,” the cop offered, gesturing back the way he’d come from. Gavin couldn’t see the flashing lights anymore past all the crates, but he could faintly see the smoke against the night sky in that direction. “It’s dangerous out here tonight. I’d rather not leave you wandering alone.”

“Dangerous?” Gavin asked, eyes widening in feigned concern. “What’s so dangerous?”

The cop shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “We had some criminal activity here just recently. Most of the culprits have been taken into custody, but we can’t be sure there aren’t more around. It’s safer if you get home.”

“Criminal activity? Is that what that boom was earlier?” Gavin asked and the officer nodded. “I thought that didn’t sound very good… You’re right, maybe going home would be good. But I’m sure you’re busy dealing with all of this, so maybe I can just use your phone to call for a ride? I’ll wait for them by the entrance and everything. This just sounds more important than giving me a ride home.”

Gavin was starting to think he might actually have a knack for this, especially when the cop slowly nodded again and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It had always seemed like Gavin wasn’t the best talker in the past, but he wondered if he’d just been talking to the wrong people. Or this cop was extremely gullible and even a child could con him out of his phone. But either way, Gavin counted this as a success.

Taking a step away from the cop – who was watching Gavin very carefully – Gavin frowned and struggled to remember the number he wanted. He was actually pretty good at remembering numbers, but he just had to figure out which one he needed. After a second, he punched one in and brought the phone to his ear, hoping he’d gotten it right and that he’d get an answer.

After the third ring, the other line was picked up and Gavin was greeted with a very groggy and half-asleep, “’Ello?”

“Hey, Jeremy. Sorry to wake you, but I could use some help,” Gavin said, and there was no response for a moment except for quiet shuffling in the background.

“Gavin?” Jeremy finally mumbled, and Gavin heard him groan and mumble something sleepily to himself. “Whose number is this?”

“I’m borrowing a phone from a kind officer I just met,” Gavin said, lifting a hand in a brief wave to the other man. “I don’t have access to mine right now.”

“An officer? Are you alright, Gavin?” Jeremy asked, and he sounded more awake and alert now, the grogginess quickly leaving his voice.

Even though Jeremy wouldn’t be able to see, Gavin nodded, playing with the hem of his shirt. “It’s no big deal. I was just hoping you could give me a ride home. The way I got here isn’t exactly an option at the moment.”

“Where is here?” Jeremy demanded. “And what are you doing there?”

“I’m at the docks. I was looking for my dog. Tank,” Gavin said, putting a little emphasis on the last word. So the crew hadn’t actually lost a tank, but “arsenal” wasn’t a good dog name. “My friend – the one that has that weird fascination with eyepatches – took Tank out and lost him. I thought I’d find them here, but I was wrong.”

It was quiet for a moment, and then Jeremy slowly said, “You lot went after the Corpirate again. But when did he get a tank? I don’t remember that.”

“C’mon, you remember Tank. You watched him just recently. Big dog, yet difficult to keep track of, has a tendency to leave quite suddenly and sometimes with a bit of destruction in his wake,” Gavin said slowly, trying to piece together what he was saying as it came to him. The cop lifted an eyebrow and Gavin rolled his eyes, pointing to the phone and shaking his head. It probably sounded like Gavin owned the unruliest dog. Or had the most forgetful friends.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jeremy exclaimed, and Gavin fought to keep the grin off his face at the other man’s sudden realization. “You don’t mean a literal tank. Got it. Is everyone else there, too?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Gavin sighed.

“Fuck. It’s just you?” Jeremy said. He sounded pretty well awake at this point, and Gavin could hear him shifting the phone, with muted shuffling and the occasional light bang of things being moved around beneath his words.

“No, nothing like that. I don’t think it’s that bad,” Gavin said, though he couldn’t figure out how to tell Jeremy that it was only Jack with him at the moment. “So can you give me a lift? The officer says it’s probably better to go home for the night. It’s apparently not very safe out here right now. I can explain everything to you when you get here, and go at the search again later. I’ll be waiting for you near the entrance of the docks.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there quick as I can. Be careful, Gavin,” Jeremy said.

“Cheers, mate,” Gavin said, hanging up the phone and passing it back to the officer.

“Would you like an escort to the entrance?” the cop asked, tucking his phone away, and Gavin shook his head quickly with a smile.

“No, that’s alright. I can get there. Thanks for letting me use your phone, and good luck out there. Watch yourself,” Gavin advised. He lifted his hand in a brief farewell and hurried away, ducking out of sight behind one of the shipping containers as soon as he could.

Now he just had to find his way back to Jack and get them both out of the area before any more cops came poking around. Gavin didn’t know if he could get away so civilly next time. Though at least he was making, albeit slow, progress in fixing what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like it was time to update the crew, and they could really deal with the extra hands right now. So Jeremy is probably going to be around quite a bit more than I had originally planned. It'll be interesting trying to write him now, but I can't forget Monster Truck, now can I?


	28. Hospital Break

Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten pulled into this situation, but if he was being honest, he wasn’t really opposed to it.

It had been a while since he’d started working with the Fakes, but he had never actually been a part of the crew. Not really. He had originally been approached by Geoff when he and Jack were just starting out, quite a while back. They needed some help getting a starting base of operations set up, and they had turned to Jeremy for his forgery skills. Jeremy had put together everything they needed so that the place was legally owned by them, without their name actually being tied to it or anything directly linking the place back to them. Since then, he’d been called off and on, usually when they needed a new place for something or new documents.

Jeremy had been called only a handful of times, and he had just been waiting for a chance to do more. Every time Geoff or Jack had contacted him, Jeremy had quietly hoped that he could actually be a part of the crew. Do more than provide documents and behind the scenes work, and actually help in a heist. Now he had a chance, though the timing could have been better, since it was hard to be as excited as he normally would have when the crew was in its current shape.

He had been more than a little surprised when Gavin had called so late at night, and he was certainly concerned. Jeremy didn’t have a lot of experience with Gavin, pretty much just the one time Gavin and Ryan had come by to look into the storage shed fire, but Jeremy rather liked him. Jeremy was up and moving even before he had wrapped up his (slightly confusing) call with Gavin, and he was down to the docks quicker than he’d thought possible.

Jeremy didn’t know what he had expected when he’d pulled up, but it wasn’t what he’d found. Jack and Gavin had been camped out near the entrance to the docks, away from the road and hidden in the darkness well enough that Jeremy didn’t notice them until they came up to his car. Gavin looked like a half-drowned puppy, soaked clothes and floppy hair and a raspy cough. Jack hadn’t looked much better, with a rough bandage around his head and shaky, almost disconnected movements.

The two of them had gotten Jeremy filled in while he’d gotten them away from the docks. He knew what they were doing at the factory, about the explosion, and that the rest of the crew was currently in custody at the hospital. Gavin had also made it repetitively clear that they had to go do something to get them out, and the final time he started in on his babbling spiel, he only stopped when Jack reached over and covered his mouth with a hand.

Despite Gavin and Jack’s injuries, they had taken a break just long enough for them to come up with a plan and no longer. Or rather, they took the time for Jeremy to come up with a plan. Jack was just focused enough to shoot down the worst of the ideas, and Gavin’s included equipment and time that they simply didn’t have. How did he really expect them to get firework launchers, a jet, a tank, a very large number of watermelons, and a high tech safe house somewhere the cops couldn’t track them to, all within a handful of hours?

Really, the plan they went with involved more prep work than they probably should have attempted, but it wasn’t quite at the same level. And it helped a bit that Jeremy already had access to a good portion of what they needed, which made the prep phase a lot shorter than it could’ve been. When only one of three of them were able bodied and not suffering from potentially serious medical conditions, having less to do was rather nice.

But now they’d gotten past the prep, were well into their plan, and Jeremy was almost giddy with excitement. If this went well, he’d be part of the rescue team sent after the great Fake AH Crew, and he figured there was probably a higher chance of being involved with the crew more later.

The hospital was like any other that Jeremy had been in. Busy, full of that odd muted noise where there were a lot of sounds but no one overwhelmed the others, devoid of color, and smelling strongly of cleaners. Though he had to admit, he had never entered a hospital posing as a police officer before.

Jeremy adjusted the hat that covered the top of his hair, since he didn’t think bright blue was an accepted hair color for most officers. No one really paid him much attention, since he wasn’t the only officer to enter the hospital by any means. Gavin was with him, dressed in an EMT uniform. Jack was waiting outside, since not only was a bashed and bloody head and lack of focus probably bad for maintaining cover, but Jeremy and Gavin were also the only ones at this point who wouldn’t easily be recognized.

“Okay, so we need to find everyone else,” Gavin said, looking around as if he expected Geoff to come strolling around a corner toward them.

“That is a good first step,” Jeremy agreed, stepping up to the nurse’s station in front of the sliding doors. One of the nurses behind the counter glanced up from her computer screen, smiling tiredly at Jeremy, while Gavin hung back and pretended to look busy. “Hi. Do you know where I can find the criminals they dragged in a couple hours ago?” he asked.

“Which ones?” the nurse asked dryly. “You guys bring a lot of people through here at night.”

“There were four of them, two very seriously wounded. They were pulled out of an explosion down at the docks,” Jeremy clarified, leaning on the counter. The nurse nodded, going back to her computer and typing quickly.

“Okay, I know them,” the nurse sighed, and Jeremy wondered if the crew had been giving the hospital troubles. He wouldn’t have been surprised. “Three of them are with some officers in the ER, and it looks like the fourth, a Mr…he doesn’t actually have a last name, interesting. Ryan, was moved to the ICU after surgery.”

“Great, thanks,” Jeremy said with a grin. “And how would I get to those areas?” The nurse pointed to the signs on the wall nearby that directed people to the different sections, and Jeremy chuckled weakly. “Oh. Right. Thank you.”

Jeremy turned and started toward the ER, deciding it’d be best to start with getting Ray, Geoff, and Michael out. It would probably be considerably more difficult getting to Ryan without attracting attention, and at least a couple of the other guys might be able bodied enough to help somehow. Gavin followed behind quickly, easily keeping pace with Jeremy.

“ICU. That’s bad, isn’t it?” he asked worriedly. “Do you think Ryan will be okay?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s probably not even necessary to move someone to the ICU after serious surgery following an explosion and getting stabbed with rods of metal. Just a precaution,” Jeremy said, and Gavin frowned at him.

“You don’t gotta sound so sarcastic,” Gavin grumbled. “Aren’t you worried about them?”

Jeremy shrugged, pausing at a turn to check the signs again and make sure they were going the right way. “Kind of. But the nurse didn’t sound too worried, they’ve gotten help from actual doctors, and we’re here to pick them up. You can’t be too worried with all that, can you?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Gavin said as they turned a corner and entered the busy ER.

Nurses and doctors bounced between patients, charts and medication and equipment in hand. Patients came and went, and Jeremy could see more milling about the waiting room on the other side of a glass partition. There were a couple officers scattered throughout, and most of them looked beyond done with everything.

Finding the crew was far easier than Jeremy had imagined, as soon as he was in the right area. It was actually difficult to _miss_ them.

There was a little bit more cop activity near some beds at the edge of the ER, and Michael’s voice rang out loud and clear over the general buzzing activity of the hospital. “Well I’d be a lot less ‘unruly’ if you assholes would stop poking and prodding and injecting me with shit. Of course it hurts when you touch it, it’s a fucking healing gunshot wound!” he yelled.

“Is there any way you can sedate him again?” one of the detectives grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers and forcing his glasses down with the movement.

“We can, but it’s difficult to assess how much pain he’s in when he’s unconscious,” one of the nurses said. “He only just woke up.”

“I liked him better when he was sleeping,” the detective insisted.

“Oh, come on, Burnie,” Geoff said, and Jeremy was finally able to see them as he came in close. It was difficult to see when almost everyone in the area was taller than him. “You’re getting annoyed already? You’re going to run out of steam before we even leave this place.”

Ray, Geoff, and Michael took up the three beds at the very end. Ray looked like he had passed out, glasses askew and mouth open slightly in his sleep. Geoff sat upright, playing with the cuff that attached him to the gurney. The two of them didn’t look too bad, a little scuffed up and singed, but not horrible for people who’d been in the center of a blast zone.

Michael was batting away a nurse who hovered over his bed, trying to get a look at the bandages on his chest. His leg was wrapped in a cast that had to be new, since it was nice and clean and devoid of any permanent marker.

“Look, Ramsey, I don’t need any of your – who are you?” Burnie started, switching thoughts mid-sentence when he noticed Jeremy lingering nearby. Geoff glanced over and stared for a second, looking between Jeremy and Gavin, then quickly ducked his head as a smile crept across his face. Michael just seemed taken aback, but he hid it better than Geoff had, simply raising an eyebrow and then going back to trying to keep the persistent nurse away.

“Hi, Detective…Burns,” Jeremy said, glancing quickly at the man’s nametag. “I’m Officer Wynn, from the fourth precinct? I was asked to help you out with these guys, and my captain said I should make sure they get out of here right now so we’re not in the good doctors’ hair longer than needed.”

Burnie frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and Jeremy smiled up at him as winningly as he knew how. “I haven’t heard anything about this,” Burnie said slowly.

“I’m sorry, detective. I just know what my captain asked me to do. I thought yours would know as well, but I haven’t talked to him myself,” Jeremy said apologetically. “But I already got this man here to pull a couple ambulances around to pick these guys up, there’s back-up out there with a car, we’re all ready to go.” Jeremy gestured quickly to Gavin, who smiled weakly and lifted his hand in a brief wave.

Burnie looked between the two skeptically, and Jeremy didn’t know if talking his way through this was actually going to work. It was a million times easier if a basic con _did_ work, especially because they still had to go find Ryan, but he was ready if it didn’t work that well. He had a gun and a lot of practice slipping out of tricky situations. It was possible to go on to a plan B.

Before Burnie could say anything, Geoff piped up, apparently finished taking a moment to control his expression. “Oh, Burnie, just share with the nice tiny officer. We’ll still be around for you to torment after we leave the hospital,” he teased.

“It would be kind to spare the doctors and nurses from your childish tantrums,” Burnie said slowly, looking pointedly at Michael, who had grumpily acquiesced with the nurse when she’d pulled out a needle and threatened to sedate him again. “If you’re just taking them to our station, I suppose it would be fine.”

“That is the plan,” Jeremy said, nodding.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get these assholes out of here. You all, help Wynn here get them out front. I need to talk to the guys in the ICU, let them know it’s just ‘Vagabond’ back there they need to worry about now,” Burnie said decisively, talking to the other officers nearby.

Gavin nudged Jeremy’s shoulder gently, and Jeremy looked around to see him nervously looking at Burnie. Jeremy grimaced and nodded once in acknowledgement. They couldn’t have more cops hanging around Ryan than what they already had to deal with, especially when Jeremy was already going to have his hands full to start with. But he also wasn’t sure how to get Burnie to leave without raising more suspicion, and that was the last thing they needed. Just so long as he could get there, he figured he could come up with something.

“Do you mind if I, uh, go with you, detective?” Jeremy asked. “The EMT here knows where we parked, he can show your guys the way no problem. I’d just like to go see Ryan myself, if that’s okay? See how he’s doing, be able to tell my captain his condition when he inevitably asks. I’m sure you could tell me, but I’d feel better knowing for myself, you know?”

Jeremy clasped his hands behind his back, crossing his fingers and hoping that Burnie wouldn’t question the thin, spur of the moment lie. But Burnie didn’t seem to be fully listening, let alone questioning, as he carefully watched the rest of the crew as if he expected some grand escape right then. Which may have been true but it also wasn’t coming as aggressively as he probably thought.

“Yeah, sure, you do that. Just make it quick,” Burnie agreed dismissively. A shout from Michael punctuated the end of his sentence, and Burnie snapped, “Can we _not_ break the pain in the ass criminal anymore? We’re trying to get him out, not keep him longer.”

The officer that had been trying to help Michael stand stepped away quickly and nervously. Gavin immediately moved up and took his place, gingerly helping Michael upright, throwing one of Michael’s arms around his shoulders. One of the officers grabbed a pair of crutches a nurse quickly handed him, and a second cuffed himself to Michael’s free hand, which only got him a disdainful look from Michael.

Geoff was up and moving, hands cuffed behind his back, with no real trouble, whereas one officer was struggling to wake Ray. One firm shake of Ray’s shoulders resulted in a loud, clearly fake snore, and Jeremy tried not to start laughing at the sound.

Burnie watched for a moment and then sighed and shook his head, turning away. “Just don’t kill them on the way outside,” he said over his shoulder. “Come on, Wynn, let’s finish this up quick.” Jeremy looked over at the crew, just catching the quick motion as Gavin passed something small to Michael, and then Jeremy was hurrying after the detective.

In his attempts to keep up with Burnie, Jeremy kept alternating between speed walking and jogging, because the detective was moving very quickly down the hallway. They passed more people than Jeremy had expected to see so late at night, though no one really paid either of them much attention. Police presence wasn’t exactly uncommon in a hospital, and he figured most people had simply gotten used to it.

The wing where the ICU was located was behind a sliding glass door at the end of a hallway. The doors slid open as they approached, and Jeremy swore the air was thicker on the other side. It seemed so much quieter and muted than the rest of the hospital, and he felt more than a little uncomfortable.

Burnie seemed to know where he was going, taking a couple quick turns and stopping in front of one of the many glass-fronted rooms. Two officers stood guard outside the door, one of them sporting a brace on a couple of his fingers and a fresh bruise spreading across his cheek. Jeremy could see Ryan laying on the bed inside, hooked up to so many monitors and machines that he looked like some weird mad scientist’s experiment.

“Is it okay if I go in real quick? Is he awake?” Jeremy asked, his voice pitched low merely because it felt wrong to try speaking too loudly.

“He’s still unconscious, but the doctors say the anesthetic should be wearing off soon. If you go in there, make it fast. You probably don’t want to be around when he wakes up,” advised the injured officer, and Jeremy nodded, slipping past them and into the room as Burnie started explaining what was going on.

Jeremy closed the door quietly behind him, looking at Ryan. The steady beeping of the monitors offered the only background noise, and Ryan seemed to just be sleeping. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath his plain hospital gown, one arm rested across his torso in a sling and a cast, and one leg was heavily bound in bandages. He was cuffed to the railing of the bed, and it looked like no one had bothered to touch his face paint. It was smudged and rough and chipped, but it didn’t seem to have actually been scrubbed off at all.

Glancing quickly at the officers outside, Jeremy stepped up next to the bed, grabbing onto the back of the armchair nearby. It scooted slowly across the floor when he leaned against it and Jeremy stood up straight, wondering if Ryan would wake up really soon and how hard it would be to make him wake up.

“Ryan. Ryan, wake up,” Jeremy hissed, wondering if that would do anything at all. He actually wasn’t expecting Ryan to immediately crack an eye open and glance over at Jeremy. “Oh. Hi. They said you were unconscious.”

“That’s because I’m pretending to be. Then they’ll leave me alone,” Ryan said, and his voice was horribly raspy as if he’d come down with a bad cold. “You’re not who I was expecting to see here.”

Jeremy nodded, looking over his shoulder when Burnie rapped on the glass with his knuckle. “I’m here to get you gone. Hope you’re ready to go, cause I’m not waiting,” Jeremy said quickly, and then he gripped the chair tightly in his hands and moved.

The doors in the hospital rooms didn’t have locks, probably for safety reasons, so Jeremy quickly wedged the heavy armchair beneath the doorknob, hoping it worked as well in real life as it did on TV. He grabbed the gun from his utility belt and grinned cheekily at the surprised officers on the other side of the glass. Before they so much as moved, Jeremy grabbed the blinds to one side of the glass wall and pulled them closed, blocking the cops’ view of the room.

“Gotta say, never been broken out of a hospital before,” Ryan said dryly, struggling to sit up. “Is the room supposed to be fuzzy?”

“I think rooms do that when people knock you out with drugs,” Jeremy said, ripping all the wires and tubes off of Ryan. Ryan winced slightly as things were removed but didn’t say anything. The banging on the doors and window increased, and the chair screeched briefly as it shifted across the floor. Jeremy looked around as he heard Burnie screaming on the other side of the wall, and he seriously hoped that the cops’ need to maintain public safety overrode their “shoot the dangerous escapees” process.

The monitors let out alarms and furious beeps as they were suddenly cut off from Ryan, and Jeremy helped pull Ryan off the bed and to his feet. The cuffs stopped him from moving far, and Jeremy rammed the barrel of his gun against the flimsy connecting chain and pulled the trigger. Sparks flew up from the metal but it broke, enough for Jeremy to pull a link free from the chain. Ryan was shaky and slumped heavily against Jeremy, which made him lean drastically to one side because of the height difference.

“What’s the plan? Go out guns blazing and tear them apart?” Ryan asked, briefly leaning away from Jeremy with a pained groan in order to snatch his mask from where it lay on the bedside table. Jeremy looked around, a little lost. He actually hadn’t thought of getting _out_ after blocking their one easy escape route. The chair scooted further and the door cracked open behind them as the cops very slowly fought against the leverage.

“You have nowhere to go. Open the door and we’ll take it easy on you,” Burnie screamed through the slightly open door, and Jeremy quickly came to a decision.

“Well, we’re going out. But it might hurt. A lot,” Jeremy warned, raising his gun and firing off a few quick shots.

The window across the room exploded outward, glass shattering and flying away from the impact. Ryan looked down at Jeremy, over at the window, and back again. “Fine. But you better be able to carry my weight when I inevitably fall,” he said as Jeremy pulled him over to the window.

“Get officers around the building, now, we have an escape attempt and – wait, what?” Burnie yelled, and Jeremy had to assume he was yelling into his radio. “Ramsey, what the fuck are you doing with the radio? You two, get outside and see what’s going on before we lose them all!”

Jeremy grinned and reached for his own radio, clipped to a band on his shoulder. “Jack, we need you in the back,” he said. And then he half pushed Ryan out the window and jumped out after, yelling out, “Li’l J!” as he did. A bullet whizzed by, catching on the top of Jeremy’s hat, and he made sure to drop out of the line of fire quickly.

Apparently public safety had been thrown out the window with the two escaping Fakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first time seriously writing Jeremy, and I'm hoping it came out how I intended. As always, thank you guys for reading and commenting and leaving kudos; I hope you enjoyed it! And kudos to anyone who caught the small RvB reference.
> 
> Also, I've recently set up a Patreon for my writing, so if you want to support me and get cool extras for doing so, the link is on my profile!


	29. Burning Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Sorry for the long delay. I needed a little bit of a break from FAHC stuff, to return to my fantasy novel roots for a short time, but I come bearing more story for you all! I hope you like it, and as it gets closer to some points I've been wanting to write for over a year and a half, hopefully my energy for this story will continue.

Escaping a hospital was far easier than anywhere else they’d been so far.

It had been pretty easy to lose their escorts once the crew was led outside. Jeremy, Jack, and Gavin had parked their vehicles – an ambulance and a cop car, both watched over by Jack – away from the main doors to the emergency room, back where few people traveled so late at night. The Fakes got the jump on the cops around the darkened corner, which was easy enough when they weren’t expecting the fight.

Ray had his handcuffs unlocked not long after they’d been set. Keeping his wallet, and his lock picks, had been tricky once they’d been up and moving – Michael and Geoff’s various complaints and jibes provided enough distraction that Ray could get his wallet from beneath his pillow without being seen – but Ray was glad he did. He’d kept the cuffs held behind his back, hoping that no one would go around behind him and notice the ploy, but they hadn’t. The cops were so sure that the cuffs would hold. It was kind of amusing, really.

Michael was the one that started the scuffle. He’d stopped moving with a shout, leaning heavily against Gavin and dragging the cop who was attached to his wrist closer. Then everything moved very fast. Michael took his arm off of Gavin’s shoulders and swung, sticking the cop with a syringe of sedative Gavin gave him and knocking the man out cold in moments. He dropped, a dead weight pulling at Michael’s arm, and Ray noticed his friend grimace at the movement.

As soon as Michael moved, Ray dropped the end of the cuff he held and threw a punch of his own. He was pretty sure the cop fell back more out of surprise than pain, since Ray knew he wasn’t the strongest person in the world. The impact made his hand hurt, a sudden flare of pain from bruised knuckles, but he swung again before the cop had a chance to recover from his surprise. The second punch landed on the man’s nose with a crack and blood started pouring down his face.

Ray followed up with a quick knee to the cop’s groin, sending him down to the ground with a pained groan. He was still conscious, but hurting, and Ray grimaced, shaking his hand out. Hand to hand wasn’t really his thing, it was what Michael was around for, and he sometimes forgot how much punching someone hurt.

When he looked away from the cop that had been escorting him, Ray found that the others were already handled. Gavin held a crutch over his head, like a club, and looked down at one of the crumpled cops in surprise. Michael kept his balance on his good leg, looking down at the man he was cuffed to in annoyance, and Geoff stood over his own escort, his hands still bound behind his back. He glanced at Ray and then down at the cop writhing on the ground. He stepped over, said a quick apology to the man, and then stomped his heel down on the cop’s face. The man stopped moving, lying still on the ground with blood pouring from his nose.

Jack stepped out of the waiting cop car as the quick fight finished, dressed a police uniform of his own. Beneath the hat he wore, Ray could see clean, white bandages around his head, and he didn’t seem to be fully focused. His attention drifted, and his smile was weak and distant. Ray was glad that he had been in the passenger seat, and that he hadn’t been trusted to drive, because as good as Jack was, he definitely wasn’t at his peak.

“Hey, Ray, you wanna help me out here?” Geoff said, turning to offer his cuffed hands toward Ray. Ray quickly undid one of the cuffs, as Michael snatched the keys off a cop’s belt and detached himself from the man.

“Your buttons aren’t right, Geoff,” Jack said, studying Geoff’s shirt. The buttons of his dress shirt weren’t aligned properly, a couple skipped or in the wrong holes, and his bowtie was draped loosely around his neck. The cops had given the crew just enough time to change out of their hospital gowns before being led outside, after loud complaints from Geoff about how it was cruel to drag them out in the horrid gowns, but they hadn’t exactly been patient.

Geoff glanced down at himself and shrugged, adjusting his jacket on his shoulders. “I think it makes me look rugged,” he said.

“It makes you look like a teenager who ran from his girlfriend’s parents in the middle of the night,” Michael said with a grin, grabbing onto Gavin to help him upright as soon as he got his cuff undone. Gavin put the crutch down quickly, no longer frozen in place in surprise, and pulled Michael to his feet.

“Or like you just got kicked out of a bar,” Ray added, pulling his sniper rifle off an unconscious cop’s back with some difficulty. The one Gavin had knocked out had been carrying the crew’s weapons along with him. Weapons with their nice little evidence tags with bad handwriting across the lines. Ray checked the sniper to make sure nothing was damaged when the cop fell and then slung it over his shoulder.

The radios at the cops’ shoulders crackled to life and Geoff knelt down and snatched one up as Ray checked to make sure all the other weapons, stored in a large bag, were fine. “Get officers around the building now.” Burnie’s voice came through the radio, crackly and a little difficult to make out, but clear enough that they all knew who it was. Geoff grinned at the crew and bounced the radio in his palm. “We have an escape attempt and –”

“Don’t worry about it, Burnie. We’ll get those pesky criminals out of your hair in no time,” Geoff promised pleasantly.

“Ramsey, what the fuck are you doing with the radio?” Burnie demanded.

“Just having a little chat before we gotta stop talking. See you, Burnie,” Geoff said, dropping the radio back onto the cop’s chest. It continued to buzz with activity, officers trying to coordinate, Burnie barking orders. Just after Geoff stopped speaking, another radio came to life, this one attached to Jack’s uniform.

“Jack, we need you in the back,” Jeremy said.

Jack grabbed the radio and answered back, “We’ll be there.” Both his and Jeremy’s voices came from a similar radio clipped to Gavin’s belt. Ray figured it was their solution to not having coms, though considering the fit Gavin threw when he realized Ray and Michael were using walkie talkies, it kind of amused him that the radios were their go-to.

Geoff gestured to the cop car and said, “Ray, go with him. You’re probably in better shape to be driving. Go pick them up. I’ll get Gavin and Michael out of here. You guys have a rendezvous set?”

“Yeah, I know where it is,” Gavin said, helping Michael to the ambulance. Jack climbed back into the passenger seat of the cop car and Ray pulled open the back door, setting his sniper inside carefully. He held the bag out to Geoff, who nodded and grabbed a couple of the smaller weapons, and then the bag went into the back of the cop car as well.

“Let’s go,” Ray said, slamming the car door and hopping in the driver’s seat. He took a moment to settle in the seat, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ve never driven in the front of one of these before. This is nice.” He found the switch that controlled the rooftop lights and clicked it, red and blue light pulsing above the windshield and over the walls beside them.

Ray threw the car into drive and slammed down on the accelerator, shooting forward. He pulled at the wheel, spinning them around to go to the back of the hospital. Jack quickly grabbed for whatever handles he could, clicking his seat belt into place. “Geez, Ray, where’d you learn to drive?” he asked.

“I’m still working on it,” Ray said calmly. He didn’t notice Jack’s breath catch and body freeze up when Ray took the next turn sharply, cutting over the carefully maintained greenery around the edge of the hospital and nearly destroying the side view mirror with the corner of the building. They didn’t have an exact location in which to find Jeremy and Ryan, and trying to get ahold of them didn’t work since they didn’t answer Jack over the radio, but Ray was pretty sure it’d be hard to miss them. And he wasn’t wrong.

Most of the windows were dark, since the sun was just lightening the sky with the dawn, but one window on the ground floor had bright light spilling from it. Shards of glass clung to the frame and the blinds were destroyed. It was a safe assumption that that was where Ryan had been staying before Jeremy got to him. Ray could see a few men with flashlights scouring the parking lot and bushes around the window, cops that had followed the crew members out.

“Do you see them?” Ray asked, looking around quickly but seeing no sign of Ryan and Jeremy.

“No…” Jack said slowly, his attention flicking quickly between different points that they approached. He grabbed his radio and thumbed the button, holding it close to his face as he spoke. “Guys, we’re here, where are you?”

There was silence for a moment, then the radio crackled and Jeremy muttered, “Dumpster.” Ray glanced about quickly, taking note of a small, walled-off section with swinging wooden doors that protected a large dumpster. One of the cops was slowly approaching the space, gun held at the ready.

Ray flashed a quick grin at Jack and said, “Hold on tight.” He pushed down on the accelerator again, shooting across the empty back lot and toward the approaching cop. The man looked up as the flashing light spilled over him, and he dove out of the way as Ray barreled toward him, throwing himself down to the ground in his haste to get away.

Slamming on the brakes and wrenching at the wheel again, the cop car skid across first asphalt and then grass, throwing up dirt in its wake, as Ray stopped right where the cop had been walking. The man looked up from where he was sprawled on the ground, lifting his gun, and the others outside quickly started making their way over.

Jeremy and Ryan appeared from behind the wooden doors to the dumpster, Ryan hopping and hobbling and using the smaller man as a crutch. The cop on the ground shouted, no words or warning to it, and leveled his gun at them instead. Jack grabbed the door handle and swung the passenger door open, slamming it into the man’s head as he started to rise. He fell back with another shout, this one strangled and pained and a little muffled with the door in his face, and his gun went off harmlessly.

As Jack pulled the door closed, Jeremy opened one of the back doors, all but shoving Ryan inside the car and scrambling behind. Ryan didn’t look great – he was pale and shaking and his jaw was clenched tight as he adjusted himself in the back, sinking against the seats. But he didn’t complain or let any sounds of discomfort escape him.

“Go, go, go,” Jeremy said quickly, shoving Ray’s rifle out of the way so he could get in a seat and slam the door closed.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Ray said, eying the approaching cops. “I don’t like hanging out at hospitals.” A shot rang out, smashing into the flashing lights of the cop car and destroying a bulb, and Ray floored the gas pedal again, launching toward the approaching cops. Like their friend, they dove out of the way to avoid being run over, and Ray put the car back onto the drive. They pulled away from the hospital faster than anyone would recommend in a parking lot. Cars around the entrance pulled over at the flashing lights, and Ray got out without incident. At least until other cop cars would inevitably try to give chase.

There was rustling from the back seat, and he could see Ryan slowly moving through the contents of the bag. He was still in a hospital gown, his arm in a cast and held close to his body, his face paint chipped and worn and in need of a touch up but still clinging to his skin. His mask sat on his lap, and blood was spotting the bandages around his leg. None of it seemed to faze him, though, as he pulled his jacket out of the bottom of the bag with his available hand.

“How are you doing, Ryan?” Jack asked, turning to watch him through the grate separating the front seats from the back.

“Things are moving weird,” he muttered, pulling his jacket on with a bit of difficulty.

“I think he just woke up from anesthesia,” Jeremy supplied, leaning forward as much as he could to see out the windshield. “Take a right here, Ray. We’re meeting at the strip mall with the waving arm guy, to switch cars.”

“I like that guy,” Ray said, taking the turn that Jeremy pointed out.

When they pulled into the parking lot, it was pretty easy to see the ambulance sitting amongst the few cars that speckled the lot. The air-powered waving arm guy at the entrance waved at them as Ray turned into the parking lot, and Ray returned the gesture with quick jazz hands.

A couple cars waited for the crew at the edges of the lot, where the ambulance was currently parked. Geoff leaned against the door to a small sedan, watching the entrance of the strip mall, and he pushed himself upright as the cop car pulled up alongside him. Ray flipped the lights off, and the red and blue that had accompanied their trip died. Jeremy reached for the door, pulling at the handle and shoving at the door, but it didn’t budge.

“Help,” he pleaded, and Ray chuckled as he climbed out of the car. Geoff helped Jack out of the car, looking him over critically and lifting the hat off his head to inspect the bandages. Ray pulled open the back door of the car, after a moment of grinning teasingly back at Ryan’s tired glare, offering a hand. Ryan clasped his forearm, using Ray to lever himself out of the car, and Jeremy scrambled out behind him with the guns Ray had thrown in the back.

Sirens grew in the distance and everyone’s heads turned toward the noise. “We have to go,” Geoff said. “Are you doing okay, Jack?” Jack nodded, pushing Geoff’s hands away.

“As well as I can be,” he said. “I’ll rest when we’re at the house. But we should go so they don’t catch sight of the cars.”

“Gavin and Michael are already set. Ray, take the other car. The rest of you, load up, let’s go,” Geoff ordered, gesturing to the sedan and the unassuming little hatch back beside it. “Don’t get got, don’t do something stupid that’s gonna get you killed.”

“No promises,” Ray quipped, hopping into the front of the hatch back. Jeremy and Ryan joined him, Jeremy tossing the sniper and other guns in the passenger seat as the two of them got into the back. Jack kicked Gavin out of the front of the sedan, ignoring Gavin’s childish protests as he was moved to the back with Michael. As soon as Jeremy and Ryan were situated, Ray pulled out. He drove far more sedately, if a little jerkily and with a few too many sharp brakes and turns, but then he also wasn’t normally a driver.

Ryan wasn’t the chattiest travel partner, especially as he was shaking off the effects of surgical anesthesia, and then probably dealing with some amount of pain from all his injuries that would be flaring up without the medication running through his veins. Jeremy was a bit more social. He asked about the safe house they were going to, what the plans were after getting there, if they’d be found, if they’d need his help once the cops settled. He sounded like an eager child, asking permission to join his parents somewhere he normally couldn’t, and it amused Ray. Ray answered the questions readily, though occasionally peppered with sarcasm and flatly spoken jokes that caught Jeremy off guard a time or two and put a level of unsurety in his next questions.

The last time Ray had really run into Jeremy, they hadn’t spoken much, and he was rather enjoying the conversation that sprang up between them. He was interesting to talk to, with amusing puns to counter Ray’s jokes, and the light chatter helped to ease some of the worry that Ray had been carrying with him almost since this thing with the Corpirate began. It wasn’t nearly good enough to make it go away, nothing short of killing the bastard who was going after the crew would do that, but it was better.

Until they reached his neighborhood.

Ray first noticed the bright light as he rounded a corner, uncharacteristic for the early hour. Bright white light flooded the neighborhood from car headlights, and blue and red flashed across it. A collection of cop cars and a fire truck sat outside a house, Ray and Michael’s house, their attention focused on it. Or what remained.

The nice, quiet little house that the two had set up for themselves was little more than a blackened husk. The entire front was missing, burnt or blown off or something else, but it wasn’t there. What Ray could see from further back, it looked like everything was charred and black and either entirely gone or beyond repair. The houses on either side were black and charred in places themselves, an entire half of one apparently once engulfed in flame. The fire truck was no longer spraying its water, and fire men went carefully in and out. Cops gathered in the burnt lawn, deep in conversation.

People milled about in the street. A woman sat on the back of the firetruck with a small girl, both in their nightclothes, the girl clutching a stuffed animal and staring at one of the damaged houses. Most people were hastily dressed or in pajamas, some with blankets wrapped around them. The cops talked to a few in small groups, and a fireman did the same with the woman and the girl.

Ray slowly put the brakes on, rolling to a stop in the middle of the street, and he stared at the destruction with a lump in his throat. The house was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be somewhere safe, somewhere that no one would know about or link to them. It was an escape, a chance to ignore their dangerous and crazy lives and pretend to be normal, with the light bickering of roommates and casual video game hang outs. No one could trace it to them, and it had been safe for a long time. Whoever had done this knew more than they should’ve, and Ray was suddenly very glad that they never fully convinced Michael to stay back and finish resting.

Not only had someone taken a shot at the crew, had tried to kill or destroy something of theirs, but they had endangered everyone around with their attempt. Ray didn’t like letting people get hurt who didn’t need to be hurt. He’d grown to enjoy the company of the neighbors, had grown fond of them, and they had almost gotten hurt. How many people had woken up to screaming fire alarms and rising smoke, jumped out of bed in a panic because an asshole with a vendetta had targeted the crew? How many were being seen to for smoke inhalation, for heat exposure, for who knew what else, because they’d gotten caught in the crossfire? How many people sat watching in terror as they feared the fire would spread more, consume more than it did, and did anyone wonder about the two young men who lived in the house and what had become of them?

Ray moved slowly, mechanically, as if on autopilot. If Jeremy or Ryan spoke, he didn’t hear, too caught up in his own thoughts, in trying to figure out what happened, in the terror and guilt that gripped his heart like a vice and refused to let it beat as it should. He opened the car door and stepped outside, the pungent smell of smoke meeting his nose only a few hours after he’d last encountered it, the curling tendrils reaching up toward the lightening sky and to everyone watching. There should’ve been the faint buzz of quiet conversation from the gathered people, but Ray heard nothing around his heart beating in his ears and his breath, coming far too quickly.

It was their fault. All of this. He knew how high the stakes had gotten. They all did, after the Corpirate started targeting their contacts and pinning crimes on the crew. But still, Ray had figured his home was safe. That no one would find it, that even with who they were dealing with, the people nearby would be safe and well. But that couldn’t stay true for long. Ray was caught up in too much, brought too many enemies his way, he should’ve known better than to stay somewhere he cared about. To introduce the people he liked to those he didn’t. He should’ve known, should’ve talked to Geoff about moving locations, should’ve done something to help them.

But he didn’t, and now people were hurt. They were physically injured, emotionally hurt as they watched their homes get destroyed. They’d have to handle repairs, replace objects that were destroyed, deal with medical bills, possibly handle the loss of a pet. They wouldn’t feel safe, wouldn’t feel as comfortable in the house after what happened, and it was all Ray and Michael’s fault. The two of them could’ve stopped it, and they didn’t.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Ray looked around. The surprise and nervousness that would normally spring up from the gesture was dull and quiet, a background buzz as his brain tried to tell him it was bad but the message didn’t quite make it through. Looking over, Ray’s eyes met Michael’s.

His friend stood on his good leg, his hand on Ray’s shoulder both a quiet comfort and a means of support. The sedan sat on the other side of the street, and Geoff stood outside, next to his door, quietly watching the two. But Ray didn’t pay much attention to him as Michael squeezed his shoulder and swallowed hard. Ray could see the hurt and fear and worry in his eyes, likely a mirror of Ray’s own, and caught the shakiness of his breath as Michael tried to steady himself. Ray realized he himself was shaking, his hands gripping onto the hem of his hoodie, twisting the material tightly within his fists.

“Ray, I…” Michael said, his words catching in his throat, and he looked from Ray to the gathering a block away from them. “I don’t…”

“Did we do this?” Ray asked quietly, and it felt like he was forcing the words out of his chest, out of his throat, pushing them when they didn’t want to leave. “Did we lead them here?”

Michael was quiet for a moment and then shook his head. “Course not,” he said, though his voice was weak and thready and not extremely convincing. “We didn’t do this. That asshat did it.”

“I want to kill him,” Ray said, and the calm, cool detachment to his tone would’ve surprised him under other circumstances. “This isn’t okay. He needs to die.”

“That’s the plan. Let’s find this asshole. Track him down and make him suffer, and we’ll shoot him where he stands only when we’re done with some fucking therapy,” Michael said. His words became slightly stronger, and he kept Ray’s attention, eyes locked on Ray’s. “We’ll get his ass back for this, and then some. I promise.”

Ray stared at Michael and then slowly nodded. One fist uncurled from his hoodie and he reached up to grab at Michael’s sleeve. “I want to be the one to shoot him,” he said, and Michael nodded once, sharply.

“I won’t argue,” he said. “We’ll get him. Even if he takes anything else we have, every fucking gun or car or the damn hoodie off your back, we’ll hunt his ass down and demolish everything. We’ll make him fucking suffer and burn, okay? We’ll get this son of a bitch.”

Ray nodded again, more strongly, and a fire started burning in his gut at Michael’s words. He was going to fix his mistakes, he was going to make it right, and god help anyone who got in his way. He was the best sniper in the area, rarely missed his mark, and he was pissed. Someone had tried to kill his friends, and him, and destroy his things, and hurt innocent people Ray happened to be near. He wasn’t going to stop until that someone was dead.


	30. A Small Upgrade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back from the dead, for a little bit. I decided I needed to update something, and we're getting close to things I've had in the works for a while now, so... Another chapter for you all! A lot more calm and collected after what the boys have been through, but I think they need it. Hope you all enjoy!

Geoff couldn’t imagine what the two lads were going through. In this line of business, it wasn’t uncommon for someone to lose a safehouse or to be the victim of a pointed attack like they had been. But most people weren’t as set up as Michael and Ray had been. The lads didn’t just have a safehouse, they’d had a home. They’d made a life in that neighborhood, had connections, friends, people they cared about. Their house wasn’t just somewhere to go to lay low, they had lived there. Most safehouses were like the one they’d found Gavin in – sparsely furnished, containing things that someone wouldn’t mind leaving behind on a moment’s notice, but not Michael and Ray. They’d filled their house with personal touches and things that meant a lot to them, and Geoff couldn’t imagine how long they’d been there and how attached they’d grown to their home.

Sure, Geoff and Jack had lost their apartment recently. Gavin had had to abandon a safehouse as soon as he joined the crew. But those were easy. Maybe actually getting out wasn’t easy, exactly, but Geoff hadn’t really lamented the loss of the apartment past the general annoyance of losing access to the weapons and equipment they’d had to leave behind. But Geoff had seen Michael and Ray there in the street, looking at their smoking home.

The lads were clearly upset. Geoff didn’t hear what they said to each other, he didn’t want to intrude, but when they turned away to get back in the cars, he’d seen a fire burning in their eyes. This had hurt them, it had angered even Ray, the far more laid back one out of the pair. And in doing so, it hurt the crew. That house wasn’t Geoff’s home, it hadn’t been much more than somewhere to hole up over the last month or so, but he was determined to bring down the Corpirate and give the lads somewhere new to call home. They deserved that, at the very least.

They hadn’t stayed in the neighborhood for long. The cops were uncomfortably close, and while gawkers weren’t uncommon following an event like that and no one would pay attention to the cars down the road, Geoff didn’t want to stick around. It was growing light out, and it wouldn’t be long before their ragtag crew drew attention to themselves, and they could start getting recognized. Luckily, it seemed as if the others had come to the same realization, because Michael turned back to the sedan with a nod toward Geoff and got in the car about the time that Geoff was going to approach the lads and see about leaving.

By the time they stopped again, the sun was just starting to come up over the horizon, and the clouds were painted with gold as the sky steadily lightened. Geoff pulled up at a park that was deserted due to the early hour, save for a woman wearing headphones who jogged along a trail on the other side of the park. He stepped out of the car, rubbing at his eyes, trying to ignore the exhaustion that prickled at them like a million tiny needles. They just had to get somewhere safe, and then they could rest, but his body didn’t care about his assurances. He was tired now.

Ray got out of the hatchback, looking out toward the neighborhood they’d just left. Geoff had led them far enough away that the curling smoke was no longer visible over the tops of nearby buildings, but Ray’s attention was fixed overhead, as if imagining the clouds rising up into view. Gavin got out and stepped up by Ray, gingerly putting a hand on his shoulder, getting a small, tired smile in return.

Jeremy had started pacing through the grass, glancing back the way they’d come occasionally, and the others stayed where they were. Which was probably a good idea, since Jack wasn’t entirely present, and both Michael and Ryan shouldn’t have been trying to walk.

Geoff took a moment to look his crew over and let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. They were all there, now six people that had helped him and were waiting for him to take control and call out their next step. They were hurt and shaken and in desperate need of a rest, but everyone was alive, which was all Geoff could ask for at the moment. He wasn’t sure if Jeremy wanted to stick around with them, not after all of this mess, but for now, he was in charge of all six of these idiots. But he wasn’t sure what to do.

“We need somewhere to go,” Geoff declared, and it took him a second to realize he’d said it out loud. The crew glanced over at him, Jeremy halted his pacing, all of them waiting. “Gavin’s place is gone, mine and Jack’s, and now…” He gestured vaguely toward the neighborhood and Ray frowned but didn’t speak up. “Jack and I don’t have anywhere set up that I think is safe. Not for so many of us.”

Ray shook his head, shrugging a shoulder, and Geoff could see his hands clenching the fabric of his hoodie tightly even through the large pocket. “We don’t have anywhere else… Didn’t think we needed it.”

“Yeah, I don’t have anywhere that’s big enough for all of us,” Gavin said apologetically.

“I could probably come up with something, but I’d need a bit of time to call around,” Jeremy said, scratching at the back of his head and pulling his phone out from his pocket, swiping through the screens. He’d ditched the full officer utility belt at some point and tossed the uniform jacket in the back of the car, so he no longer looked like a cop. “I don’t have anything ready in the meantime, though, and it could take a little bit to find a place.”

Frowning, Geoff started trying to come up with alternatives, places they could stay while Jeremy worked. They could probably get a hotel room somewhere, they had to have the cash between all of them to manage that. Or find somewhere to just sit and relax for a bit – a store, a library, another warehouse, just somewhere that the cops wouldn’t think to look for them. Those options were a bit too open for Geoff’s preferences, though, too full of people who might catch wind of the inevitable manhunt and call them in. That was a last resort.

As Geoff was trying to remember what places were nearby that they could look into, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud crinkling sound and a quiet swear. Ryan, still sitting in the back of the hatchback with his door open, was rummaging around in the bag beside him. He looked a little comical, face paint that was cracking and peeling, dressed in a hospital gown, only one arm through the sleeve of his leather jacket, but Geoff wasn’t going to mention anything about it. Out loud.

After a second, Ryan pulled a phone out of the bag, frowned at it, and then tossed it back in frustration. “Dammit. I forgot that broke. Hey, I need a phone,” he said, shifting closer to the open car door and twisting around toward the rest of the crew. He held out his hand, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the crew looked at each other, unsure who had a functioning phone after the chaos at the warehouse, before Jeremy dropped his into Ryan’s hand. Ryan nodded his thanks and dialed a number, holding the phone up to his ear. It was quiet for a moment, everyone else listening curiously, wondering who he could be calling. Geoff realized he probably had contacts somewhere, where else would he get all the equipment he’d shown up with, but he wanted to know who the people were that got casual calls from the Vagabond.

“It’s me,” the mercenary said curtly into the phone, breaking the silence. He frowned, shifting so that he was leaning back in the seat again and looking away from the crew. “Yes. Well, that phone is out of commission… Of course. I know how this works. Now, I…ugh.” Ryan sighed, closing his eyes and holding his phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. Geoff smirked, lifting an eyebrow, and he was even more curious about who Ryan could be talking to.

“Right. Right. Yes, I know… Yes, and I’d appreciate it if we could make this quick, as we’re likely being looked for at the moment,” Ryan said, dropping his hand and grabbing at the phone again. A quick grimace crossed his face before he hid it behind an impassive mask, and he nodded. “Of course… Yes… That would be ideal… Where? Great, thank you… Yes, as soon as I have a new phone. Thank you.”

He hung up, offering the phone out toward Jeremy. Jeremy went to grab it and Ryan pulled it away a bit, meeting Jeremy’s eyes seriously. “You should finish what you might need to do and then toss this phone. Preferably after destroying it. I’d rather no one else have access to my contacts. Got it?” He didn’t even blink, staring Jeremy down, and Jeremy looked nervously from him to everyone else before nodding slowly and taking his phone back.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said. “So what was that?”

“We have a place,” Ryan said, letting out a breath and closing his eyes as he reached down to touch the bandages wrapped around his leg. “It’s not too far from here. Recently cleared out of its previous inhabitants. I know where the key is, we can hole up there for now, no one will find us there.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows went up and he glanced down at his phone. “That was _fast_. I gotta know who you can talk to who can do that.”

“No, you don’t,” Ryan said with a wry smile, shaking his head.

“Well, we should go, if we know where we’re going,” Jack said, speaking up for the first time in a while, and Geoff was glad he was conscious enough to add to the conversation.

“You awake enough to get us there, Ryan?” Michael asked. Ryan cracked one eye open, glanced over at Michael briefly, and then closed his eyes and nodded.

“Sure. If we don’t take too long leaving,” he said.

Nodding to himself, Ray got back behind the wheel of the hatchback without a word, after Gavin squeezed his shoulder and offered him a weak smile. Gavin looked around at Geoff, clearly upset and unsure as he shrugged and got in the car himself.

Ray led the way through the city, Geoff following close behind and keeping an eye out for anyone they didn’t want to run into. He realized he could probably let up on his vigil a little bit, the cops didn’t know their cars and would probably expect them to leave town instead of going further into the downtown area. Traffic started to pick up gradually as they drove, and Geoff had to keep rubbing at his eyes and forcing himself to stay focused and not run into one of the other sleep deprived, early morning drivers.

Skyscrapers and office buildings loomed overhead, blocking out the low sitting sun and casting shadows over the road as they drove. Each red light made Geoff more antsy, every time they had to sit and wait for someone on the crosswalk to move out of the way. He imagined Burnie turning a corner and coming across him and his crew sitting idly in the middle of the road, which would only end poorly for everyone involved.

But there were no cop cars. Burnie didn’t appear from the shadows, hunting the crew down, trying to arrest them again. No one tried to blow them up or shoot them or knock them off the road. The drive was quiet and peaceful (maybe a bit too much so), and eventually Ray led them into a parking garage connected to one of the largest apartment buildings that bordered downtown.

Half of the crew needed assistance getting out of the cars. Ryan leaned heavily on Geoff’s shoulder – Jeremy had offered, but Ryan had looked down at the much smaller man with poorly hidden amusement and declined so he wasn’t stooped over – and Michael and Jack were helped along by Ray and Gavin. Ryan pointed toward the doors that connected the building to the parking garage, and Geoff slowly made his way there as the Vagabond hopped alongside him, his mask held tightly in one hand and teeth clenched.

The automatic doors opened up to a short hallway that led into a nice lobby. The front of the building was made of floor to ceiling glass panels, providing a clear view of the street outside and the people slowly starting their day. There was a semi-circular desk in front of a door, but there was currently no one manning it. On the side of the lobby they entered on was a stairway, and the other held a collection of elevators. Everything was clean and smooth and modern – wood paneling on the walls, potted plants spaced evenly between simple benches, marble flooring, dangling lights. It was nice and high end and definitely nowhere the cops would suspect a low end crew on the run would go.

“There’s cameras,” Gavin said nervously, pointing up to a small box in the corner with a gently glowing red light.

“Don’t worry about them,” Ryan said dismissively. “Jeremy, go around the desk. Bottom drawer on the left, there should be a key that’s labeled with the letter P.”

Jeremy went to check, rummaging around for a moment, and Geoff kept looking out the windows, constantly worried of something going wrong as they stood there bloodied and battered in an open lobby. No one passing even paid attention to the building, but he couldn’t trust that to stay the case.

After a moment, Jeremy popped up from behind the desk, holding a small key in his hand victoriously. “Found it!” he crowed.

“We need an elevator,” Ryan said, nodding at the elevator bank, and Geoff helped him that way, hitting one of the call buttons with the side of his fist. One of the doors opened up immediately, and the crew piled in. Ryan shoved his mask behind his sling and held his hand out toward Jeremy, who looked at his hand for a moment blankly before realizing and handing the key over.

Ryan put the key into a hole at the top of the control panel and turned it, before pushing a button that also read “P”. The elevator started moving, and there was a moment of stillness as it went, no one in the crew willing to break the silence that descended. It was almost peaceful for Geoff. There were no gunshots, no explosions, no squealing of tires or shouting or thrum of adrenaline rushing through his body. After the day they’d had, Geoff would’ve been fine with the elevator ride going on forever, if it meant that things would be nice and quiet and calm.

Eventually, the car slowed to a stop, and the doors opened with a cheerful ding. Ryan grabbed the key from the elevator and was helped out of the car. The elevator let out into a small room that was decorated similarly to the lobby far below, only on a much smaller scale. One door sat across from them, and Geoff led Ryan over to it. Using the same key, Ryan unlocked it and pushed it open, and Geoff almost forgot how to walk forward as his tired brain tried to figure out what he was looking at.

The penthouse was massive. Clean wooden floors, tall windows along the walls, the light paint made it bright as the morning sun streamed inside, and half walls that separated sections of the main room left it feeling very open. All of the furniture was nice and pristine and looked expensive. One wall, between the large windows, was taken up by a giant flat screen television, and there was a hall and a small staircase, each of which led off somewhere Geoff couldn’t see.

“So are we going inside, or…?” Ray asked, and Geoff snapped out of it, nodding silently and leading the way into the penthouse.

With Geoff’s help, Ryan collapsed on one of the long couches, propping his leg up on the arm and settling down with a few quiet, pained noises. He was breathing deeply only seconds later, and Geoff wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep or was simply resting but alert, but he wasn’t going to bother Ryan either way.

“Wow…” Michael said, pulling Gavin around the penthouse despite the other’s surprised squawks and stumbling at the sudden turns. “This place is amazing! How the fuck did Ryan get it?” He looked over at the couch expectantly, but when Ryan didn’t answer, he shrugged and went back to making Gavin support him on his way to the dining room.

Ray was in the kitchen, pulling open cabinets and rummaging around. The kitchen itself was huge, all light colored cabinets and marbled countertops and shiny appliances, and it looked like whoever had left hadn’t taken all of their food with them. Geoff wasn’t sure how acceptable some of the things in the fridge were to eat, but Ray had pulled out a box of cereal and was crunching on plain handfuls of it as he looked around.

Jeremy had run downstairs as soon as they had entered, and he poked his head up over the top step, eyes wide. “There’s so much space here! How…? This would’ve taken me _ages_ to set up! It was ready in, what, two minutes? I’m glad you guys didn’t find him for all your stuff or I’d have been out of a job,” he said, before disappearing back downstairs like a groundhog.

Though he was moving a little sluggishly, Jack was looking around himself, exploring down the hallway, and Geoff followed after his friend, allowing the younger members to gawk and stare at the rather impressive set-up. The hall led to a bathroom and a few bedrooms, each of them perfectly kept and cared for. It was like the place had been readied for the crew, but unless there had been someone here as soon as Ryan had called, Geoff doubted anyone would’ve had the time to do all of this before the crew arrived.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Geoff said, following his friend as Jack stepped into one of the bedrooms, turning on the spot as he took in the queen sized bed, the small desk, dresser, the large walk-in closet, and the door out onto a balcony that overlooked the city. They were very high up in the air, and they could see for miles out over Achievement City. It was breathtaking.

Jack nodded slowly, moving to sit on the bed. “That’s putting it lightly… We went from a small apartment, to a house, to being on top of the world.”

“Damn good upgrade,” Geoff agreed, sitting down beside Jack. “Think we’ll be okay here?”

Jack hummed thoughtfully. Out in the living room, Geoff could hear Michael trying to get Gavin to lead him down the hall, while Gavin was crying out something about the electrical system and cameras. “I think it’s a good place to stay for now, at least. It’s certainly the last place Burnie would check. It’s not connected to us. I don’t know how Ryan got it, but I’d assume his name isn’t tied to it…”

Geoff nodded, running his hand over the comforter. It was soft and plush and he was very tempted to just fall backward and lay down and fall asleep. “That’s true. And since we have Jeremy here, hopefully we can get new supplies and a new hideout sorted out a bit quicker. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Jack said with a small smile. “I mean, my stomach is a bit unsettled, and there’s this pressure in the back of my head, and my attention is a little…weak. But I’ll be fine. Concussions suck, but it’ll go away.”

“Get some sleep. We need to figure out our next steps, but we can’t do that if everyone is about to fall over from exhaustion and injuries.” Geoff pushed himself up again, and his legs protested the movement, his mind telling him to just settle back down and claim the bed as his own. “I can get the lads where they need to be, figure out rooms and all that, make sure no one’s gonna die in their sleep… You rest.”

Jack didn’t argue, and instead wordlessly removed his shoes and laid down on the bed. He took off his glasses and dropped them on the end table, and Geoff slipped out of the room as Jack started getting settled in to sleep. Geoff closed the door, looking down the hall. There were two other rooms there, possibly more downstairs. It wouldn’t be difficult to separate everyone so they could rest.

Running a hand through his hair again, Geoff shook his head quickly, trying to force just a little bit more energy into his body. He just had to get the lads settled in, and then he could sleep. And then they had to figure out how they were going to take out the Corpirate before the crew was torn apart.


	31. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Have a new chapter.

There was an energy to the room, subtle but Michael could definitely feel it, as the Fake AH Crew gathered to finalize the plan for their last heist. The time of the Corpirate’s final strike had arrived, the move against the military base they had known was coming, and the crew was ready for it.

A large table sat in the center of the office, its surface covered with papers, dishes, empty cans, pens and pencils, charging cables, bullet boxes, and various electrical odds and ends. Gavin had practically been living in the room since arriving at the penthouse, and Michael, Ray, and Jeremy hadn’t been far behind him in time spent there. Most of the mess was from their planning and preparations, to get the crew where they were now.

“I hope all of you are ready, because this is it,” Geoff said, leaning on the edge of the table. Behind him, the once bare wall was covered with more papers, and a large map that had been constructed of small sections printed on their own pieces of paper and put together like a puzzle. Everything on the wall had been written on in various colors of pen, hastily scrawled notes and a messy web of lines that practically obscured the map beneath in some places.

“Tomorrow, we’re taking the Corpirate’s score right out from under his nose, and we’re going to turn it around against that asshole,” Geoff swore, his eyes flicking from person to person. “We have to do this right, or we’re all screwed, and he wins.”

“No pressure,” Ray said, and Michael smiled at him. As calm as Ray seemed to look now, slouched back in his chair with his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie and a faint smile of his own on his lips, Michael could tell he was as geared up as everyone else. Despite his joking tone, his eyes were hard, his jaw was set, and there was a slight, anxious bounce to his leg.

Geoff didn’t seem to be listening as he pushed himself up from the table, a ruler in hand, and jabbed the end of it into the biggest mess of intersecting, colorful lines on the map. “He’s going here, the military base, and we’re going to beat him to it,” Geoff said. “We’re getting in, we’re borrowing a couple vehicles, and we’re getting out. With any luck, we’ll have it done before they even know what’s happened.”

“Because driving a tank inconspicuously down the street is very easy,” Ryan said dryly. He sat off to one side, injured leg stretched out in front of him and his arm cast-free but still held in a sling. He had been recovering surprisingly fast, considering his injuries, and didn’t seem to have much trouble moving around anymore. Though as this heist had drawn closer, Ryan had become even more reserved, avoiding being in the same room as anyone longer than necessary, barely speaking, and once again returning to wearing the mask at all times of day.

He wore the mask now, the bright white teeth of the rubber skull grinning at all of them, Ryan’s eyes behind it cool and calculating and almost alien. No one was sure what was going on with him, and Michael didn’t know if anyone had bothered to ask, either. He certainly hadn’t.

“And that’s why we’re not going to do that, now, are we?” Geoff huffed, turning and pointing the ruler at Ryan. “If that was the plan all along, we’d have done it before now.”

“So what is the plan, Geoff?” Jack asked gently. He sat closest to Geoff at the table, attention on the crew leader and the wall of information. Jack had recovered well and quickly from the concussion he’d sustained, bouncing back with only a scar to show for it along his hairline. He had been keeping a close eye on Michael and Ryan, making sure they ended up well rested and functional before this heist went off, and there weren’t any problems from the repeated batterings they had gone through.

Geoff glanced around at everyone briefly and then struck his ruler against a couple images hanging from the walls, the thin piece of wood connecting with a solid crack on each hit. “The Corpirate is going after these two vehicles. An attack chopper that’s kept on a helipad at the edge of their airstrip, and a tank they have tucked away in one of the hangers. So that’s what we’re going to take. If we can get our hands on anything else, that’s a bonus.”

Using his ruler as a pointer and gesturing to each person, Geoff continued, “Jack and Gavin, you two are our fliers. I want Jack in our chopper, you’re going to get you and Michael and Ryan into the base, grab the other chopper while the two of them go for the tank and get it out of the hanger. Gavin’s in the cargobob, we’re going back to that magnet, scoop up the tank and get the fuck out of there.”

“You’re putting  _ Gavin _ in charge of that?” Michael asked incredulously, looking around at where Gavin was sitting at the back of the room. Gavin sat framed by his various computer monitors, looking half asleep but practically vibrating in his seat. “He’s going to crash and burn before we even get near the base!”

Gavin pouted and whined, “Michael, please. I can do it! I can fly just fine, it won’t be a problem.”

“You almost flew into a building and crashed on our heads,” Ray pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’ll do this one better, promise!” Gavin cried.

Ryan cleared his throat pointedly, and everyone turned to look at him. “I can fly it,” he offered, and Geoff’s eyebrows rose. “I know how to operate a cargobob. And I’ve seen Gavin’s flying myself, I don’t want that to be what we rely on. Have Jack take Michael and Gavin in to get the tank. It also won’t leave Gavin by himself if things go awry.”

Geoff considered for a second before shrugging. “Sure, we’ll do it that way. Gavin, you’re with Michael, don’t get fucking shot while you’re on the ground,” he said. Gavin looked a little put out but didn’t argue, and Geoff pressed on. “Ray and I are outside backup,” he said, pointing at Ray with the ruler.

“There’s a hill, it’s right...right...here…” Geoff said, hunting down the point on the map before tapping it with his ruler. A purple circle covered the spot. “That’s where you’ll be, Ray. Camp out there and watch out for the others. Meanwhile, I,” he pointed to himself with the ruler, “will get a butt load of explosives and go around the outside of the base. Cause a distraction, blow up some things, just be annoying as dicks. Hopefully even if they do notice you all inside, it’ll split them up so it’s easier to get out.”

Finally, Geoff jabbed the ruler at Jeremy, who looked back at him with wide, almost surprised eyes. He sat at the table quietly, sunk into his chair and it seemed like he was intending to be overlooked, though at this point Michael didn’t understand why. Jeremy was pretty much one of the crew by now, when he broke them out and didn’t run screaming into the hills once they were out of hot water, and he’d quickly grown to be someone that everyone liked having around. Even Ryan had warmed up to him a bit, at least before shutting himself away again.

“Jeremy. You’re going to be monitoring everything for us. Comms, cameras, making sure everything is going smoothly from the back,” Geoff said.

“I thought that’s what Gavin normally did?” Jeremy asked, looking around at Gavin in confusion.

“Well, now it’s what you do,” Geoff said. “First it was cause I didn’t know Ryan could fly anything and I wanted Gavin in the air. Now, Ryan’s right, he shouldn’t be left alone. Last time he was kept back to monitor everything, he nearly got arrested.”

“You say that like it was my fault,” Gavin complained. “I was trapped in the back of a bloody truck, wasn’t I.”

“And now Jeremy will be,” Geoff said, nodding his head once firmly. “So, Jeremy, did we get everything we need?”

“Yeah, we got it all,” Jeremy said, with a quick gesture to Ray and Michael.

The three of them had been the ones who had been doing a lot of the legwork for their final heist. Even though every member of the crew at this point was known to some degree, it had been agreed that first, someone had to go out and get things wrapped up, and second, the lads were far less likely to attract attention than the heavily injured man with a love of skulls and two of the most well known criminal heads in Achievement City. Gavin helped, too, but that was mostly so they could drag him out of the penthouse and get some fresh air.

Michael had been thrilled when Jack had cleared him to go out and help. His broken leg was healed as much as it was going to be, and though he was using either a cane or someone else as support to get around sometimes because his muscles had atrophied from not walking on his leg for ages, Michael had been good to go for a little while. He’d been working with Jeremy and Ray as much as possible, glad to just be doing something.

Besides having to restock their usual supplies such as clothing, food, medical supplies, and basic weaponry, the lads had been on the hunt for the bigger things they needed to make this heist work. Gavin needed his electronic supplies, but this time, it wasn’t for his computer. The computer system was already far more than what they’d expected, with a large collection of screens and up to date programs and systems. There was also already a camera system installed that monitored not only parts of the penthouse, but also the hallway outside, the elevator, the lobby of the building, the parking garage, and every entrance into the building. All Gavin had really needed were the pieces to build a new set of earpieces, since the explosion had blown out most of them one way or another.

The electronic components were easy, Ray and Michael had just gone to Radio Shack with a list written up by Gavin (they’d been unable to drag Gavin away from the computers he was fawning over), and Gavin had gotten to work making a new comm system. It had taken him some time to build them from scratch, since he completely dismembered the working earpieces he was given and reworked them to suit his needs, and he was also attempting to fix some issues like the waterproofing and them being exploded, but Gavin had a new small box of them on his desk to show for his efforts.

Most of the other things they needed specifically for the heist, they had looked to Jeremy for. The first step had been to get new cars. The little sedan and hatchback were out, just in case they were known, and also because they weren’t the quickest cars and the crew wanted to be able to evade the cops when it came down to it. Those had been easy to get. Within a day, Jeremy and Ray had ditched the old cars and brought back a couple new ones to the parking garage.

Next came the box truck and everything that they needed to outfit it for surveillance. Geoff had decided to keep the same general set-up they’d had at the storage lot, with a few changes. Jeremy had sought out a truck that had a gate between the storage area and the driver’s cabin so that it could be fully operated by a single person without leaving the vehicle. The back door of the truck had also been locked down to keep anyone from entering abruptly.

The most difficult pieces equipment to obtain were the choppers. Finding cars was easy, even a box truck that met Geoff’s exact specification, Jeremy had had those done in no time. But not even he just had spare helicopters on stand-by. The cargobob that the crew had used for the bank robbery was no longer an option, as they’d had to ditch it and it had gotten moved out of their reach. Jeremy had had to seek out an entirely new cargobob, figure out a new giant magnet strong enough to lift a tank, and make sure that they had access to it on the day of the heist.

The entire thing had been a process where Jeremy took either Ray or Michael - sometimes both - to go meet with people and arrange payment or favors to get everything that they needed. The chopper was a little bit easier, but not much, as both vehicles weren’t easily concealed and there was some risk to the people who usually kept them if the cops traced either chopper back to their respective hangers. But they had done it in the end, and now both choppers were fueled, equipped, and ready to take on the military base.

“Good. Gavin,” Geoff said, and the ruler swung back around to him. “Are we going to have eyes in the military base?”

“I think so,” Gavin said, nodding and gesturing back to his computer set-up. “I’ve been testing their firewalls, and there are a few weak spots, so I should be able to get in. I just can’t do it yet, in case they notice and it bollocks everything.”

“So how’re we getting  _ away _ with all of this? Or even inside?” Michael asked, resting his forearms on the table and leaning forward to try and make out the specifics of the map scribbles.

Geoff followed his gaze, snapping the ruler up as his other hand started groping blindly along the table for the drink he’d set there earlier. As they’d been in the penthouse, Geoff had been getting better about drinking, declaring that he wanted to be clear minded for this heist and not fuck it up. He still was never perfectly clear headed, but there was a noticeable decrease in his drinking habits at least. The fact that he actually had a glass and not the whole bottle at the moment was certainly an improvement.

“So!” Geoff said, jabbing at an orange line that didn’t go all the way up to the military base. “Jeremy, you’ll be here. Far enough out that you hopefully won’t be noticed but still nearby. You’ll get set up first. Gavin will start there with you, and as soon as you’re in their security system, you give us the go ahead and we’ll take it from there.”

“Me and Ray,” he continued, pointing to a black line and a purple line that started near each other and then branched off, “will be the first ones up there. Ray, you take position and keep an eye on things. If Jeremy loses sight in the base, we’re counting on you. And for sniping. I’ll be nearby to start causing problems once the choppers show up. When everyone’s out, I’m going to lead the cops off in the opposite direction of the penthouse and lose them, while Ray, you get gone. Rendezvous at the park down here.”

The ruler went around to Jack and then jabbed at a green line as Geoff paused for a drink. The green was muddled up with a white and red line that eventually split to become a huge mess of color at the military base. “Jack, you grab Gavin and Michael and go in next. There should be some space on the airstrip between our two targets, land there. Jack, you go after the attack chopper, Michael your job is the tank. Gavin...don’t get got. If there’s a problem, get back to our chopper and go, we’re not fucking losing anyone to this.

“Jack, once you have the chopper, just get out of there, lose any pursuers and get it to one of the airstrips that Jeremy’s listed as safe ground. Gavin will get going in ours to watch your back and the cargobob. Michael, get the tank out of the hanger and to a clear area where the cargobob can pick you up. Feel free to fire it while in the air if you can, as long as you don’t get shaken loose,” Geoff said.

Finally, the ruler came down on a blue line that came in and joined the military base mess. “Ryan, you’re blue now. You’re in last, when hopefully all their attention is fixed somewhere else. Just get over to where Michael has moved the tank, pick it up with the magnet, and get him as far away as you can. You won’t go very high or fast, but you just have to get him somewhere that’s difficult to follow. I’m sure he can take care of the rest. You two meet Jack and Gavin at an airstrip, they should let you know which one, and Ray and I will be around to get you when it’s safe.”

Geoff leaned on the table again, a grin growing beneath his mustache and a gleam to his eye that made Michael think of an eager, mischievous child. “What do you think, boys? Think we got this?”

“Fuck the Corpirate, we got this shit,” Michael declared, mirroring Geoff’s grin.

“Easy,” Ray said with a wave of his hand.

“I think we can manage one little heist,” Jeremy added, and Geoff’s grin grew larger.

“Then let’s go break into the military base.”


	32. Name Your Price

Jeremy had no idea how things had gone so wrong so fast.

It started with him and the surveillance truck. As they had planned, Jeremy was the first to get set up and in position, and the preparations went off without a hitch. He was parked roughly half a mile away from the base, at the edge of a small parking lot. He had a generator keeping the computer system, lamp, and fan powered, and he had some drinks on hand. Gavin set up the system and walked Jeremy through it, a quick rundown of camera positions and how to change what he was looking at, and how to monitor the comm and connected GPS system for the rest of the crew.

As soon as the computers were set, Jack picked up Gavin, and the rest of the crew started on the heist itself, leaving Jeremy with a wide selection of screens and a lot of tech to keep an eye on. But Ray and Geoff were barely in position and ready to call it by the time things went wrong.

At first, it was small. Jeremy had his attention moving between the cameras that monitored the surrounding fence and property border of the base and the darker screen that showed a collection of colorful and labeled dots, one for each crew member. Any time someone spoke, an audio wavelength appeared by their name off to the side. Jeremy was making sure the chopper was clear to go in when there was a sharp, electrical pop from the earpiece he’d been given, and he instinctively reached up to snatch it out of his ear.

The inside of his ear hurt and tingled from the shock, and Jeremy grimaced, slowly putting it back after feeling the entire little device and trying to see if it was still sparking. Maybe Gavin had left some of the wires a little loose, hadn’t sautered them down well enough and they’d gotten free and touched and shorted out. Or it was just a weird, common thing Jeremy hadn’t been warned about.

“Alright, Jack, go! Get in there,” Geoff called. The earpiece hadn’t shorted out, then. He could still hear. Though something seemed off with the GPS map. It took him a second, but there was no orange “Jeremy” dot off to the side anymore, he was simply missing from the screen, and Jeremy looked at it worriedly.

“Gavin? Are the earpieces supposed to spark and lose GPS signal?” he asked slowly. He got no response, hearing nothing except for the rest of the crew coordinating their movements, as he watched the labels of Gavin, Jack, and Michael enter the base on the GPS map and the chopper clear the boundary on the cameras. “Guys?”

This time, Jeremy looked at the wavelengths, and got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realized that his earpiece wasn’t registering sound. He had spoken, but there was no wavelength, no technological indication he’d said anything at all. It didn’t sit right with him, and though he wasn’t sure if it was cause for alarm, he reached for his phone.

Jeremy dialed up Geoff, and as soon as he placed the call, he was greeted with a dull tone instead of the usual ringing. Confused, Jeremy pulled the phone away and looked at the screen. No signal. That definitely wasn’t right, it was working not too long ago, he knew it was. But not anymore, apparently.

He looked around the back of the truck a little lost, not sure what to do. He couldn’t contact anyone and tell them things were acting weird, and moving the truck probably wouldn’t do anything. The location had been perfect for his electronics only minutes ago, and there was little he could do in the middle of this heist with a surveillance truck.

The point where Jeremy knew things were fucked was when the cameras started to move on their own.

The crew’s chopper had landed in the base, Jeremy could see it on the screen, but so far no one had come to investigate. He figured it was likely due to the explosions he heard through the earpieces, drawing their attention, and Geoff’s taunting shouts that likely weren’t being picked up by anyone but the crew. Jack and Michael split ways while Gavin stayed with the chopper, and their progress was watched over by Ray who quietly pointed out men in Michael’s path and usually followed it up by mentioning it was now clear.

As Jeremy watched Jack and Michael leave the frame of that camera, leaving Gavin to fend for himself at the chopper, it suddenly switched. Jeremy looked down at the keyboard in confusion, unsure if he had hit a button on accident, as the cameras continued to cycle and track Jack’s progress across the airstrip and to the attack chopper’s marked helipad.

Jack ran forward with a gun in hand, and Jeremy could see men waiting for him ahead due to the camera angle, hidden from Jack but quite visible to him. Even with his earpiece out and no longer picking up audio, Jeremy shouted out a warning, “Jack, watch out!” Jack continued to move forward and only stopped when the men revealed themselves, appearing from hiding places around his path, and Jack froze.

There was a small popping sound, and then Jack’s green dot on the map vanished, and though Jeremy could tell that things were being said on the camera, he couldn’t hear anything. Jack’s earpiece had malfunctioned, too. He looked on with horror as the military men slowly closed in on Jack and Jack carefully set his weapon on the ground and lifted his hands in surrender. There were too many. Fighting them would be suicide. That much was clear.

The camera cut off suddenly, going to a black screen, and bright green letters flashed cross it briefly. ONE DOWN. And then the view switched again, to Michael.

Even though Jeremy felt like he had to do something, he had to fix it, he had to  _ warn _ them, try something, anything...he was glued to the monitors. He clung tightly to the edge of the desk, his fingers aching and turning white with the force of his grip, but he didn’t care. Jack was in trouble, he didn’t know what was going to happen now with Michael, and he was scared for the rest of the crew. Each breath felt icy cold in his lungs, painful, raw, and his stomach had twisted itself into a black hole that had sucked his heart down into it. The crew was in trouble and all he could do was watch as someone manipulated things from the outside, showing off how powerless Jeremy was to stop it, flaunting what they could do.

This was certainly a time where Jeremy just felt so  _ small _ .

He could see the ambush waiting for Michael, similar to what he’d seen with Jack. Men waited, ready to close in around him, and Jeremy’s breath caught in his throat. Michael was going to get got, too, there wasn’t much of a way around it, and he couldn’t do shit.

Except that he wasn’t the only one watching out for Michael. Through the earpiece that no longer transmitted, he could hear Ray behind the faint chopper blade rotation coming from the cargobob and Geoff’s explosions. “Alright, Michael, you’re - wait. Stop. What is… Michael, get back, get down!” he said, and Jeremy could see Michael freeze in place and then backpedal, searching for a form of cover.

There were two quick and sharp shots from the sniper rifle, and Jeremy watched two of the waiting military men fall. The shots spurred the others into action and they showed themselves as Michael found cover behind a concrete barricade. Jeremy could hear Michael swear, the cracking impact of a couple bullets on the concrete from a couple of the men, intentional misses as Jeremy could see on the camera. He could faintly hear voices buzzing in the background from Michael’s earpiece, and another, quieter, “Fuck” from Michael himself.

“What’s going on there?” Geoff demanded, his question punctuated by another, slightly more distant explosion.

“They were waiting for us,” Michael said, and Jeremy could see him peer over the barricade, frozen in contemplation for a moment, before nodding to himself and preparing his gun. “Things are about to get real fucking messy.” He paused, and Jeremy could hear the faint background talking getting louder, more forceful, as one of the men slowly starting to surround Michael shouted. “You got me covered, Ray?”

There was another sharp report of a sniper being fired in response, and another one of the men fell. “No problem,” Ray said mildly, and Michael popped up just high enough to see over the barricade and opened fire.

As Jeremy watched, men dove out of the way or fell to injuries, scrambling for the cover they had left behind. Ray shot calmly and rhythmically, and meanwhile, Geoff was still seeking answers around the gunfire. “Gavin, is everything okay there?”

“Uh… Yeah, I think so. There hasn’t been anyone here,” Gavin answered, and Jeremy could no longer see him, no longer tell if what he was noticing was true or not. Attempting to switch the views did nothing for him, the cameras stayed how they were. Michael was the focus right now, and Jeremy couldn’t change it.

“Jack? How’s it going with the chopper?” Geoff asked.

“Guys, come on,” Jeremy muttered, even though his voice wasn’t picked up, no one heard him, as he tried smashing down on the keys Gavin had shown him to change the cameras. Jack’s earpiece was still offline, no GPS, no sound, and now no video.

“Jack?” Geoff demanded, his voice cracking, and there was no response. “Fuck! Ryan, where are you?”

“I’m close,” Ryan said, his calm words at odds with the raised voices and gunfire. “I’ll be over the base in one minute.”

“Ray, do you see Jack?” Geoff barked.

There was a pause, and Jeremy had to look over and make sure Ray was still active, still there, and was relieved to see the pink dot at the edge of the military base still there. “I mean, not right now. I mostly see a lot of guys trying to kill Michael,” Ray said.

Around Michael, it looked like things were going better than Jeremy would have expected. Michael hadn’t moved, pressed against the concrete barricade that was missing small chunks from the bullets, and it looked like Michael was a little scratched and bloodied but otherwise fine. The men around had taken cover themselves, and many seemed dead or injured, but there were more than enough hiding out of sight of Michael and Ray that were able to keep Michael pinned.

The cameras cut out, the screen going black, and Jeremy shouted out, “No!” He hastily checked the power, the plugs, the generator, smashing buttons, but nothing happened. The GPS screen was still active, but the cameras were gone, his vision blacked out. Jeremy grabbed at his phone again desperately, but it still read no signal. All he could do now was listen.

Shaking slightly, Jeremy spun in his seat and leaped up, wrenching open the small gate that separated the back of the truck from the cabin. Outside, it was bright and sunny and perfectly clear, no one nearby, and Jeremy hopped into the driver’s seat. Even if he didn’t have a lot of ways to help, he wasn’t equipped with a lot of weapons, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even see what was going on now, he figured it was better to meet up with them than sit and do nothing.

“Geoff, we gotta fucking go, I can’t get to the damn tank!” Michael shouted, and Jeremy heard Geoff let out a low, almost whining noise in thought.

Jeremy turned the key in the ignition, only for nothing to happen. The engine didn’t turn over, nothing started, the truck refused to respond. He tried again a couple more times, desperately, to no avail.

“Fine, get out of there. Ryan, go get Michael, in and out fast - Michael, meet him where our chopper is, get away from those guys. Ray, as soon as you can, get back to your car. Look out for Jack, get to him if you find him, then we’re gone. Gavin, get up in the air, now!” Geoff barked after a long, reluctant pause, and he sounded tired, defeated, and strained.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jeremy muttered to himself, giving the key one more sharp turn, and then yanking them free of the ignition. He just had to get to them, he had to meet up with his crew, one way or another.

Jeremy yanked at the door handle. The car was locked, and he growled to himself, hitting the button on the door. Again, nothing happened. The manual lock was pressed down, and it was normally easy enough to move, but Jeremy just  _ couldn’t. _ It was stuck or broken or something, it wouldn’t do more than wiggle slightly in place, and Jeremy slammed his hand into the window with a wordless, desperate cry. He scrambled over to the passenger side, only to encounter the same problem. The truck was dead and the doors were stuck, and the back they had intentionally locked down, he couldn’t get  _ out _ .

“Geoff, I can’t!” Gavin cried, his voice high and panicky. “The chopper won’t start.”

“Oh, come on, you  _ asshole _ ,” Jeremy screamed into the silence of the truck itself, turning back and going into the back of the truck, staring at the one living display with wide eyes and shaking hands.

“I’m over the fence,” Ryan announced.

“Alright, I’m out. Michael, are you going to be okay?” Ray asked. For a moment, the only response was gunfire, and then a quiet grunt.

“I got it,” Michael said.

“Shit, I can’t keep circling, they’re trying to set up roadblocks, I gotta go. Rendezvous at an airstrip, and you all better be there!” Geoff barked.

Jeremy wished he could see something, anything, know what was going on besides just the audio. It was like listening to an action movie without the video, things were loud and busy and there was a high energy to it but there was no way to say what was going on or how things were turning out. There wasn’t nearly enough sound to go off of, nothing concrete.

Everyone’s voices started overlapping, a blend of reports from different points, and Jeremy started pacing in the back of the truck restlessly. He had no idea what was going on, not really. Ray and Geoff were driving, Ryan was in the air, Gavin was with the chopper, Michael was still shooting, and Jack was...he was gone. But he didn’t know anything in particular, he didn’t know how it was turning out, and he was stuck. It was driving him crazy, and his breath was starting to come in shorter gasps.

“Dammit, has anyone seen Jack?” Geoff shouted again, and Jeremy hoped desperately that Ray had, that Jack had gotten away and was alright and they could just pick him up.

“I-I don’t think he made it out,” Ray said nervously, and Jeremy groaned, sinking to the ground and staring at the wavelengths appearing on the screen. “I’ll circle around and check one more time.”

Geoff growled, and Jeremy could hear the roar of his engine as he sped away. The black dot on the GPS took Geoff off-road, into the desert and away from the military base. "Make it quick, then get out of there! And don't get fucking got! Ryan, what's going on up there?"

"Got Gavin, but we have to go back for Michael. He can't get to Jack's chopper," Ryan answered, and still his voice was calm and smooth next to everyone else, a startling contrast to the chaos.

"Well hurry the fuck up, Ryan! These guys are up my ass, and they're fucking pissed," Michael snapped, and Jeremy could just imagine him hunkered down behind his barricade, armed with his gun. He didn’t know how much ammo Michael had on him, how long it would be until he was a sitting duck, and he hoped he had enough to last.

"Almost there. Gavin, give us some cover fire," Ryan said, and Jeremy heard a gun starting up in the cargobob, a large mounted weapon that he’d struggled to come up with for this job, just in case. Now, he was glad he had, even if they hadn’t expected to use it in their planning.

"Geoff, he's not out here," Ray reported, and Jeremy sighed. It was maybe kind of ridiculous to have continued to hope they’d find Jack, there were so many, Jack had given up, Jeremy had seen it. But he had still wanted them to find Jack, to know that things were okay, to not lose anyone.

Almost before Ray was even done speaking, Geoff barked, "Get out of there, Ray. We can come back for Jack after we get rid of these assholes!"

There was no answer, but Jeremy saw his pink dot swerve off from the military base, heading out toward the park where he was supposed to meet Geoff. Ryan and Gavin’s had come up on Michael’s, and there was a lot of gunfire and distant shouting.

"I'm in! Go, go, go!" Michael screamed, his words almost lost under the gunfire. "Ah,  _ fuck _ !"

"Shit, Michael?" Gavin said, his own voice high and panicky. "Go faster, Ryan! Michael got hit!" Jeremy watched the screen scared, and he realized he wasn’t breathing before shakily forcing himself to take in a breath. He could only cross his fingers and hope that Michael was fine, that things would be okay, because he just didn’t _ know. _

Geoff swore and shouted, his voice cracking with stress and adrenaline, "Meet back at base! And you all better fucking be there!"

"Ryan! There are choppers, Ryan!" Gavin screeched, his high pitched tone making the earpiece erupt in a brief explosion of feedback, and Jeremy quickly checked to make sure none of the other earpieces had died in that moment. All of them were up and functional, and Jeremy pulled his legs up to his chest.

"I see them. They're not a problem," Ryan assured them.

"They're fucking shooting at us, of course they're a fucking problem!" Michael yelled, and his voice was tight and pained.

There was the blast of a train horn, Geoff’s wavelength becoming a large chunk of sound, and at the same time there was a sharp pop. While Geoff’s audio became a solid block, Ryan, Gavin, and Michael’s completely died. Their cluster of dots disappeared, their audio cut off abruptly, and Jeremy rushed over to the desk.

“No. No, please. Please, guys, come on,” he said, and his words no longer left him louder than a whisper, his throat felt too tight and closed up for him to speak any louder. Nothing changed, Ray and Geoff remained the only ones on the map, the only ones with audio, and Jeremy felt ready to throw up.

Geoff laughed, abrupt and relieved cackling, and said, "I've lost them and I'm heading home. How are you guys doing?"

"I'm good. Almost back already," Ray said. Jeremy could see his dot on the map nearing the location he was aiming for, and he couldn’t hear sirens that he’d faintly noticed in the background before.

"Good, good. Ryan, you lose those choppers yet?" Geoff asked. There was a pause, tense silence, and Geoff’s next words were slow, unsure. "Ryan? What's going on up there?"

"Michael? Gavin?" Ray said nervously. "Come on guys, someone answer!"

“Fuck!” Geoff shouted, and Jeremy heard a muffled impact. “Fuck…” There was another pause, and then a sudden, “Fuck, Jeremy. Jeremy, answer us, dammit, are you there?”

Jeremy could only shake his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat away, but it wasn’t leaving. He didn’t even try to answer. It wouldn’t mean anything.

“Geoff?” Ray asked hesitantly, a note of fear creeping into his voice.

There was no response for a second, and then Geoff let out a breath. “We’re going to where we left the truck. We’ll see if Jeremy is there. And then...we’ll figure out what we’re doing. But we’re going to find them.”

The screens in front of Jeremy both turned black, and a second later, the green letters appeared again. Each message sat around long enough to read, flickered out, and was replaced with something else.

CHECKMATE

FOUR MISSING

THE CREW DISBANDED

HOW MUCH WILL YOU GIVE UP TO KEEP YOUR TERRITORY?

WILL YOU SURRENDER AND HAVE THEM LIVE?

OR KEEP FIGHTING AND WATCH THEM FALL?

THE OFFER HAS BEEN MADE

THE CHOICE IS YOURS

NAME YOUR PRICE

And then the screens went dark for the last time and didn’t turn back on.


	33. Parlay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are some quick updates again out of nowhere, but we've finally ramped up to what I've been waiting for since the beginning. I hope you all are ready, cause things are getting somewhere. Enjoy!

The box truck was exactly where they had left it when Ray and Geoff pulled up, sitting quietly in the parking lot. They parked a short distance away and Ray stepped out of his car, staring at the box truck anxiously. The sun was bright and made him squint against its light, and it felt so wrong for it to be so cheerful and nice outside. Everything was going horribly, Ray felt like he was prone to a full breakdown at any minute; clouds and shadow felt more apt. But the weather didn’t seem to care what fit the outcome of their latest heist, and the day remained sunny and comfortably warm.

Geoff glanced at him as he got out of his own car, a pistol in hand and his hair in disarray as if he’d been running his hand through it repeatedly. His jaw was set, but his eyes looked tired and his shoulders were slumped. He glanced from Ray to the box truck and approached it slowly, warily, his gun slightly raised in preparation for something to go wrong.

The cab of the box truck was empty, that much was clear as they approached it. Nothing seemed broken or damaged, and when Geoff tried one of the doors, he pulled at the handle fruitlessly. It was still locked, which Ray wanted to take as a good sign. If someone had broken in and come after Jeremy, they probably wouldn’t have locked the doors behind them, or managed it without making a single mark. But it didn’t explain why Jeremy wasn’t there, why he wasn’t answering, why he’d disappeared like everyone else.

Geoff went around the back of the box truck slowly and Ray followed with tension building up further in his gut. He already felt like he wanted to puke, his insides were a writhing and convoluted mess, a mix between sinking down into his guts and wanting to squirm their way up his throat. His hands shook and he wrung at the hem of his hoodie as Geoff lifted his gun and shot out the padlock holding the box truck’s back door closed.

In one quick motion, Geoff yanked the door open and lifted his gun warily, and Ray’s breath caught for a second before it left his lungs in a rush. Jeremy sat on the floor of the box truck, uninjured, whole, alive, actually  _ there _ . Or at least physically there. He didn’t seem to notice Geoff and Ray, legs pulled up to his chest and eyes unfocused. The computer screens he’d been assigned to monitor were dark, but Jeremy was looking in their general direction regardless.

“Jeremy?” Geoff said, and Jeremy blinked, looking around at them slowly. “Jeremy, what happened?” It seemed to take a moment for Jeremy to compose himself and bring himself back from wherever he was. Jeremy slowly lowered his legs, shaking his head and looking from Geoff to the monitors and back.

“I couldn’t do anything, Geoff,” he said quietly. “I could see what was going on, I watched it all go wrong, but I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t go anywhere, I couldn’t change anything.” Jeremy looked between them desperately. “I just...they were there, and then they were gone, and I couldn’t even try to find them myself on the cameras, I’d lost all control, Geoff.”

Jeremy’s voice was soft and scared, and Ray was reminded of the talk he and Gavin had shared a few months ago. It felt like ages, but Gavin had talked about the same thing, that one bad experience with his old crew, and now it was happening again. To them.

“What happened?” Geoff repeated firmly and Jeremy let out a breath, running his fingers through his hair.

“I lost control of things,” he admitted, gesturing to the quiet computer. “My earpiece went out, I couldn’t talk. And then the cameras started focusing on their own. Jack got got by the military, they were waiting, and they were going to ambush Michael too, but…” Another quick gesture, this time toward Ray. “I wanted to come and help and warn you guys, but the doors were stuck and I couldn’t get out, and then everything went bad and I watched all the others drop off the map as their earpieces died. And then the computer screen started  _ talking _ to me, and -”

“Wait. It talked to you?” Geoff interrupted, staring at the computer screen skeptically.

Jeremy frowned and shook his head. “I mean, not technically, but words popped up. They were like…” He deepened his voice and moved his hands around in front of him while he spoke, mimicking whatever he had seen. “The crew has been disbanded, if you keep fighting they die, if you surrender they live, name your price.”

He dropped his hands and looked at Geoff with wide, worried eyes, and Ray’s next breath was icy cold. They were alive, that’s what he had to take away from it, but they also might not be for long. He was terrified, terrified of what kind of pull the Corpirate had to orchestrate something with the military, terrified by what had actually happened and where his friends were. He didn’t know how they were holding up or how long they had, and he didn’t want to picture something horrible happening to them at the hands of someone else, but the pictures wouldn’t leave his mind.

Ray didn’t realize he was starting to breathe too quickly, that he was shaking, until Geoff put a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him around to sit on the edge of the truck. Jeremy scooted up next to him, and his hand hovered in the air for a moment before resting on Ray’s leg. He smiled faintly, a weak attempt but an appreciated one nonetheless, and Ray nodded back.

Geoff bent down slightly so he was looking Ray in the eyes. “Hey,” he said, attention going between Ray and Jeremy. “We will find them. We will find them and get them back, and the Corpirate had better hope he has a friend up high waiting for his ass, because we’re not letting this go. I don’t give a fuck what the computer screen said, we’re not laying down without a fight, we’re not leaving them to...to... to whatever we’d be leaving them to. Got it?”

Ray nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he tried to get his body under control. Geoff sounded so sure, but he was still scared. Scared for his friends and their wellbeing, and what would come of them when the Corpirate realized that Geoff wasn’t backing down.

After a moment of silence, Geoff squeezed Ray’s shoulder and then stepped back. “Come on. We need to get back and start working on finding our crew. We aren’t going to leave them, and we aren’t going to let this break us. Not yet. Not until they’re safe,” he said. He spoke with a determination that didn’t match with the fear that Ray saw in his eyes, the way they darted toward the computer screens and kept going up toward the sky. But he was clearly trying.

Glancing over at Jeremy, Ray swallowed the lump in his throat and stood up, offering a hand to Jeremy. It was accepted and Ray pulled Jeremy up to his feet on the pavement. Jeremy pulled the box truck keys out of his pocket but Geoff put a hand out to stop him, shaking his head.

“Don’t bother. The truck is a bust - we don’t need it anymore, and he has access to it anyway. Leave it here,” Geoff said. Jeremy looked at him for a moment and then slowly put the keys back in his pocket.

Geoff tucked his gun away and went back to the car, with Jeremy and Ray in tow. Ray lingered for a second after the other two left, looking at the screens, wondering if something else would appear. He just wanted to know what had happened, what was going on, but they remained silent and black.

After that was hell for Ray. The three of them returned to the penthouse and started their search for their crew, with limited success. Jack, they were pretty sure they knew what had happened. He’d been nabbed by the military, breaking into the base with weapons - he’d be arrested and held, though they weren’t sure if they would keep him at the base or move him somewhere else, or when. None of them knew how to navigate Gavin’s system, how to look into files and figure out what was being done. They just had the knowledge Jeremy had from the cameras, however limited it was.

Ryan, Gavin, and Michael, there was even less to go off of. All they knew was that the three of them had remained safely airborne for at least a short while after the coms cut off. A cargobob crash would have made the news instantly, and while there were confused reports about the vehicle with the giant magnet made in passing, there wasn’t anything exceptionally worrisome. But that did mean they could have ended up anywhere, anything could have happened to them, and Ray, Geoff, and Jeremy weren’t sure where to start.

Some of Geoff’s contacts were called and asked to keep an eye out for the cargobob and its passengers. Finding the cargobob was easy enough, but it had been abandoned on a helipad by the docks and there had been no sign of the crew. They were promised that someone would look into finding footage or accounts of what happened in the area, but that it would take some time.

The day dragged on with no leads or ideas of where to start, and Ray was going crazy. He wanted to just go to every location the Corpirate was tied to, all those places Gavin had once researched and vetted when they were looking for their storage shed items. Ray wanted to go and find someone who worked for the Corpirate and make them tell the crew what had happened to the others. But he didn’t know where to even find them, and he didn’t want to risk his friends’ lives by acting recklessly.

It was dipping into evening when something finally happened. Ray, Jeremy, and Geoff were down in the office, trying to sort through what information of Gavin’s they could easily access and seemed in any way relevant, when there was a loud and pleasant ding from upstairs.

The three of them looked at each other, confused, and Geoff was the first one up. Pistol in hand, he slowly moved from the office and up the stairs, with Ray and Jeremy close behind and likewise armed. The three of them moved silently up the steps, and Ray was listening intently for anything that sounded out of place, any sign that they weren’t alone in the penthouse.

There was another ding, a cheerful bell being rung, that came from the living room. Rounding the corner, Ray stopped dead in his tracks, gun falling uselessly to his side and dangling from his hand. The fear and stress returned in full force, and he felt the color drain from his face, as his eyes fell on the large television mounted on the wall.

The Corpirate filled the screen, perfectly framed and with a knowing smile plastered on his face. It was rather unsettling, seeing him presented so large, his uncovered eye gleaming with some dark pleasure. Geoff’s hand tightened on the grip of his gun and he shifted so he was between the television and the lads, as if expecting an attack through the giant monitor.

“There you all are,” the Corpirate said, and his voice was like ice running down Ray’s spine. He hadn’t actually heard that voice since he and Michael had bailed out of the job he’d offered, and it wasn’t one that he had wanted to hear much of again. There was a faint accent to his words that Ray couldn’t quite place, and had never quite figured out before. “I thought you would be around.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Geoff demanded, stepping forward, and Ray started searching the room for a camera. The Corpirate could see them, Ray just didn’t know how.

“I just wanted to have a little chat, Geoffrey,” the Corpirate said amiably. “Did you get my message, Jeremy?”

Jeremy stared at him, frozen, and then Ray saw him gulp and straighten his shoulders. “Sure did,” he said, and though his voice wavered slightly, it was strong and clear. “I think I was the wrong person to send it to, though. Wrong hacked connection.”

The Corpirate regarded him with amusement for a second, his focus of his attention clear even through the video feed. “If anyone else had been in front of a computer at the time, I guarantee you, they would have gotten the message instead. But we work with what we have.” His attention shifted to Geoff, and he arched an eyebrow. “You understand your position here in that case?”

Geoff scowled, gesturing with his gun. “You’re not getting shit, asshole,” he declared, and the Corpirate’s other eyebrow shot up to join the first. “You’re going to give us our friends back, or we’re going to come find you and tear you apart, that’s the only deal there is.”

“I thought you cared for your crew, but it seems your price is steeper than I thought,” the Corpirate said mildly. “If you wish to lose them, very well. That can be arranged.”

“No!” Ray blurted out as the Corpirate shifted in place, starting to turn away from the camera. “No, leave them alone.”

The Corpirate’s expression twisted into a lazy smile and he held his hands up in a small shrug. “It’s all Geoff’s decision at this point, and he apparently doesn’t wish to cooperate. I’m merely doing what he seems to want. Unless you’d like to talk him into a surrender?” the Corpirate practically purred.

“Why surrender? You’ve had a shit ton of chances to just kill us, if you want our damn territory so bad,” Geoff snapped. “If that’s all you’re after, why the hell go to such great lengths, why kidnap my  _ crew _ ?”

The smile shifted just slightly, and Ray got the impression of a parent humoring a child. “It’s quite simple,” the Corpirate said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I wish to control this city, but I don’t want to be seen doing it. It would ruin a great many things I’ve built if I’m caught doing what you and your crew do. What I need is not only your territory, but  _ you _ . You and your crew to operate as you normally would, simply under my guidance. Everyone already knows who you are, your reputation here is sealed. Why fix what’s not broken?”

Geoff paused, momentarily caught off guard, and the Corpirate moved in the frame. He continued to speak as he turned and moved out of the camera’s line of sight. “Your crew is still alive and well, for the time being, and will continue to be so if you simply agree to help me,” he said, showing what he had been standing in front of.

Gavin and Michael sat within the camera’s view, and Ray’s breath caught in his throat. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Jeremy and saw Geoff tense up, frozen, at the sight. Both of them were battered and bloodied, strapped to chairs and apparently unconscious. Gavin’s hair fell in front of his face, his head dangling forward, but Ray could see the tears in his sleeves and the spots of blood that peppered his shirt and jeans. Michael seemed to be sporting a fresh black eye, and his lip was split but no longer bleeding. His jacket had been removed, and there were minor cuts and injuries along his bare forearms, defensive wounds by the looks of them.

There was a tense silence in the living room for only a second before Geoff spoke up again, his voice tight and high pitched. “Where’s Ryan?”

The Corpirate moved back into view, and while he was still smiling, it had become something dangerous and malicious, no longer the faux friendly mask he had been wearing. He lifted his hand and gestured to someone off camera, and Ray could only stare with his heart beating far too loudly in his ears and ice cold air in his lungs.

Slowly, the Corpirate shifted so that he wasn’t taking up the whole frame, and then a familiar masked man stepped into view. Ryan appeared uninjured, from what Ray could see, and surprisingly free. He had his arms crossed over his chest and wasn’t looking at the camera, his eyes averted elsewhere, expression completely hidden behind the black skull mask which now seemed to leer tauntingly.

Ray stared, eyes wide and mouth agape, not quite sure what he was looking at. It certainly seemed to be Ryan, the mask made it hard to tell for sure, but it was the right outfit, build, height,  _ eyes _ . But it couldn’t be Ryan, that would mean that he was working with the Corpirate, that he’d betrayed the crew, that he was free and able to leave and was just deciding not to. They trusted him, Ryan had been helping, had said he was trying to take down the Corpirate too, he couldn’t be working that side.

“What the fuck?” Jeremy said before either of the other two could come up with words, and the Corpirate looked between each of them, apparently taking pleasure in their reactions.

“You didn’t think I was going at you alone, did you?” he said. He reached up and put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and though Ryan stiffened slightly, he didn’t otherwise react. “I’ve had James here helping me since you decided to break into my mansion, which was rather rude, honestly.”

“It’s Ryan,” Ryan muttered, low enough that Ray almost wasn’t sure if he’d spoken, and the Corpirate shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “I’ve had more than enough help to get me to where I want to be. He’s hacked your systems, given me access to your coms, warnings about your movements, even given you information and my penthouse to use when it was necessary. And you’ve just been playing along.”

Geoff shook his head quickly, jabbing the muzzle of the gun toward the television, even though Ray wasn’t sure a camera was even there. “You traitorous dick!” he hollered, and Ryan didn’t respond except by looking further away, far off to the side. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you. I fucking warned you, if you pull any shit, I’m putting you down myself. When we see you again, you had best hope that you’re gone before I get to you, because you are  _ dead _ !”

Ryan didn’t respond, and the Corpirate watched with undisguised glee. He squeezed Ryan’s shoulder and said cheerfully, “We’ve given you a lot to think about. Why don’t we give you some time to consider, now that you have answers, and we can all come to a final agreement in the morning.”

Before anyone could answer, the video feed shut off, the living room falling into silence. There was nothing for a moment, and then Geoff pulled back and threw his gun full force at the television. The screen cracked at the corner and the gun bounced off, landing on the floor. “ _ God fucking dammit! _ ”

Ray continued to stare at the screen and slowly sank to the floor, his shaking legs unable to support him anymore. Gavin and Michael were hurt. They weren’t doing well. And Ryan… They’d listened to Gavin, to all the assurances that Ryan never turned on a crew he worked for, they’d trusted the man that everyone else was terrified of. And it had blown up in their faces.

“What do we do now, Geoff?” Jeremy asked quietly, nervously, shifting in place.

“Now?” Geoff said quietly, and he looked at each of them with a fire burning in his eyes and knuckles white with the strain of holding his fists closed so tightly. “Now we hunt down a couple sons of bitches.”


	34. Picking Sides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, guys! We're in the scenes I've been imagining for years, and I hope you continue to enjoy as we hit what should be the final stretch.

Gavin woke up in a state of panic.

He had to protect himself, he had to get away, get somewhere safe. Run, fight, something, it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t just sit. There was the man, the taser, brass knuckles, and  _ Michael _ … Gavin flinched away, throwing his arms up to protect himself from a blow he knew was coming, but they were stopped before he’d even moved, something hard cutting into his wrists and forearms. The panic rose, settling high in Gavin’s chest. Right now, he didn’t know what was happening and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t escape, he didn’t know where his attacker was. So he did the one thing he could do.

Gavin started screaming.

There was a startled curse, a flurry of movement, Gavin thought he heard his name but he wasn’t entirely sure, and then a hand clamped down over his mouth. His scream cut off abruptly, surprised by the contact, but the panic refused to leave even as his hazy mind slowly cleared and Gavin started to get his bearings. His breath came quickly, in through his nose, out through his mouth and blowing back warm on his cheeks as it hit the palm pressed over his lips.

“Let go of him,” someone growled nearby. Gavin knew that voice, it was Michael’s voice. Michael was okay, he wasn’t hurt, he was there, but he sounded so angry.

“He needs to stop.” Another familiar voice, right next to Gavin. Next to Michael, Ryan sounded so calm and almost emotionless, and Gavin’s breathing slowly started to calm. It was okay, Michael and Ryan were okay, he was okay, if still confused and lost. But he had his crew, it was fine, it would be okay.

The tired haze started to fade as Gavin picked up on his surroundings. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and was joined by other aches he felt growing along his body. There was an uncomfortable pressure on his arms and lower legs and he focused on that, on the zipties that kept him seated in his chair. Next he noticed that wherever they were, it felt like they were moving, bobbing and swaying, though he wasn’t sure if it was actual movement or he was just dizzy.

“What the hell else did you expect?” Michael snapped, and Gavin looked around to his voice. He sat close by in a chair of his own, and more zipties wrapped around his arms and legs just like Gavin. One eye was blackened and swollen, and blood spotted his lips and his chin. Despite the restraints, Michael was leaning forward in his seat and looked ready to jump up at a moment’s notice, a dark glare directed back behind Gavin.

Gavin followed his gaze, turning his head and meeting Ryan’s eyes. The familiar skull mask loomed a bit too close to Gavin, to where he could see the slight tears at the edges and where the black was fading from constant use. As usual, all he could see behind it was the black paint around Ryan’s eyes, though Ryan was avoiding his gaze, attention fixed slightly off to the side. One hand was still pressed firmly to Gavin’s mouth, and the other rested on the back of the chair he was sitting in.

Everything was still a little muddled, Gavin was still confused as to where they were and how they’d gotten there. All he really remembered was that man in the chopper, and not even well enough to know who he saw, and then he was here. But even if he didn’t know what exactly happened over the military base, Gavin was pretty sure he knew what was happening right then.

They’d been caught, that much was clear. But Ryan was fine. He was free and moving and he was going to get them out. Gavin hoped he hadn’t ruined anything by screaming, that no one had been alerted, and he looked up at Ryan with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Are you done?” Ryan asked, and Gavin nodded. The hand was removed from his mouth and Gavin licked his lips, glancing from Ryan to Michael and then back.

“Are we leaving?” Gavin asked, keeping his voice low so he didn’t draw any more attention. Ryan paused, eyes shifting further away from Gavin, before he pushed off the chair and moved silently away. Gavin watched in confusion as Ryan sat down in an empty chair nearby, and he finally started to take note of where they were.

They were in a small room made of sheets of metal, with exposed piping stretching across the ceiling and pushing down to the floor. Across from where Gavin and Michael sat was a camera on a tripod, most of the wires trailing off behind a thick pipe. It was also connected to a large screen that took up most of the wall. A small red light glowed on the front of the camera, apparently recording, to Gavin’s surprise. That should’ve been the first thing to be taken out.

Michael scoffed in the stretching silence. “Why don’t you answer him?” he demanded, and Gavin looked around to him, hoping for some answer as his confusion only grew. Ryan didn’t answer, instead drawing a knife from his jacket and playing with it idly. He didn’t look at either of the lads, his full attention focused on the blade in his hands. “Answer him! Tell him what a traitorous, backstabbing, piece of shit, asshole, bastard, right fucking  _ cunt _ you are!”

With each insult, Michael’s voice rose until he was screaming, his words echoing off the metal walls, and while Gavin flinched away from the noise, Ryan didn’t seem to take notice. Not as much, at least, but Gavin swore he saw Ryan’s shoulders tense up and he skipped a beat in the careful rhythm he’d created, opening and closing the switchblade. “Ryan?” Gavin tried, still speaking quietly, but now out of uncertainty rather than a desire to remain unnoticed. “What’s he talking about, Ryan?”

“Be quiet,” Ryan growled out, addressing the floor instead of the lads. Watching him closely, it seemed as if Gavin had been right. Ryan was tense, his shoulders stiff and slightly hunched, the movement of his hands and the blade held within still quick and routine but there was a sharpness to them. The way he flicked his wrist, the force and abrupt stop making the newly extended blade recoil slightly, the brisk  _ snap _ of the knife returning to its protective covering, the brief pause between each motion that made the next that much more harsh. He gripped the knife just a little too tightly, knuckles turning white with the pressure, stiff fingers going through practiced motions. Ryan was pretty good at hiding it, presenting an air of indifference with his almost bored fidgeting, but Gavin was pretty good with details.

A loud, scornful laugh left Michael’s lips and when he spoke, it was with a biting hatred that turned every word to fire. “He’s not  _ Ryan _ ,” he spat. “We were a job to him, don’t you get it? He was never your  _ friend _ , not even close, he was fucking using us. Working with the goddamn Corpirate the entire time! He’s just been the fucking  _ Vagabond _ , the fucking coward hiding behind a mask and his precious boss. Nothing more than a righteous, self-centered, traitorous fucking bitch of a mercenary who -”

The knife that had been in Ryan’s hand struck against the back of Michael’s chair, the blade hitting against the metal of the chair and sending a small burst of sparks into the air. The knife bounced off and skittered off into the back of the room, where Gavin couldn’t see, and Ryan remained seated. His hand was still lifted, fingers curled from the follow-through of the throw, attention focused solely on Michael and a fire burning in his icy blue eyes.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ try talking like you know me or my choices,” Ryan said, words low and level, but there was a danger to them, an underlying threat that promised a louder bark and harsher bite. Gavin sank down in his chair slightly, shrinking away from the Vagabond, who was scaring him for the first time ever. He had heard accounts of what made the Vagabond so scary, of course, everyone with criminal ties had, but Gavin had only ever found him fascinating.

The Vagabond had always struck Gavin as a mystery, something to learn and discover, and Gavin idolized this legendary figure. Someone who could take on anything without flinching, had never been caught, in and out with nothing more than a few sightings and chaos in his wake. The stories told by crews he temporarily joined only helped Gavin’s image of him, this quiet but efficient killer with a certain code of conduct, who never worked against a crew he had allied himself with and fought to get everyone out alive, if it didn’t jeopardize his own freedom. This terrifying figure had been inspiring in his own way, but then, Gavin had never been on the other end.

He had only heard stories, not experienced anything firsthand. The clawing fear and anxiousness that came from being trapped and helpless, the sinking feeling in his gut as he realized they’d been betrayed, the eyes that burned with an anger previously unknown by Gavin. The stories he’d heard started to surface, his own experience with Ryan and his skill with weapons, and all of it flashed across his mind in a horrible kaleidoscope of fear.

The outburst didn’t faze Michael for long. He sat for a handful of seconds, lips pressed together tightly, twisting around as much as he could to see where the knife had gone. When he looked around at Ryan again, he continued, in much more level a tone though Gavin could hear him straining to bite back the aggression. “Why did you do it, then? You clearly didn’t  _ care _ . I’m sure you would’ve been just fine with any of us dying if you got your way, but you were also too fucking chicken to do it yourself. You couldn’t even kidnap us on your own!”

There was only silence for a long stretch, and Michael growled to himself, falling back against his chair heavily, but he still maintained eye contact with Ryan. For his part, Ryan barely moved, only lowering his hand but otherwise he remained still. Finally, his gaze shifted from Michael over to Gavin and then flicked over to the camera.

“An explanation wouldn’t change anything,” he sighed, settling back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Please,” Gavin tried, but the word got caught in his throat. Fear and surprise had left his mouth and throat dry, made it impossible for much more than breath to leave him, and he cleared his throat weakly, running a dry tongue over his lips. “Please, Ryan?” This time he managed to form words, they left, but barely more than a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“I think we deserve a goddamn explanation,” Michael insisted. “Hell, Gavin even vouched for you when you joined, he ought to know why you betrayed his trust! Let alone all of ours.”

Ryan shook his head, putting a hand up to his mask and adjusting it slightly. “It was a job. It wasn’t supposed to be anything personal,” he said, voice muffled by both his mask and hand.

“But you joined our crew. You never turn on a crew,” Gavin said quietly.

“I didn’t,” Ryan said, meeting Gavin’s eyes directly for the first time, but then he quickly looked away again. “My...loyalties fell to a different crew first. To…” He lifted a hand and gestured around them vaguely, encompassing the room and anything beyond. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Michael scoffed and the chair creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. The zipties around his bare arms seemed to push into his skin with the movement, the skin turning white and then red, and he scowled but otherwise ignored it. “What, this wasn’t the plan from the start?” he asked with harsh skepticism.

“I mean. It was. I just…” Ryan’s words trailed off and he looked around at the camera again. He sat frozen for a couple of beats before he nodded to himself and stood up. Without a word, he circled the camera and tugged at a cord. It came loose and clattered to the ground, and the red light winked off. Gavin watched, quietly hopeful, as Ryan returned to his chair. Instead of sitting, Ryan remained next to it, arms crossed and eyes on the ground. He looked unsure, uncomfortable, and his next words came out in a rush. “I wasn’t supposed to get attached to you assholes.”

“You sure have a strange way of showing it,” Michael huffed, tugging at his restraints uselessly, muscles flexing against the thin plastic bands.

Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, his hands grabbed at the leather jacket, clutching to the folds, and he closed his eyes. “Ryan?” Gavin said, and his voice was stronger but no louder. Ryan wasn’t being scary, but Gavin was still nervous, worried that he would snap again. “How...how long, Ryan? Were you gonna do...this the whole time?”

With an audible sigh, Ryan grabbed the chair he’d been sitting it and moved it directly in front of the camera, facing the lads. He still didn’t sit, but he stood behind it, gripping the top of the chair desperately, as if he needed its support to remain standing. A moment of silence passed as Ryan seemed to compose himself, and when he looked up and met Gavin’s eyes, he looked more like the Ryan that Gavin had grown to know.

“Kind of,” Ryan admitted. “The plan has had to change a few times. Complications have come up. But this has been the general idea since before you joined Geoff and Jack.” He gestured briefly to Gavin with a vague wave of his hand. Once he started talking, it seemed like he didn’t want to stop, the words came quickly and the look in his eyes was almost desperate as he continued.

“We were just going to see what you knew, get more information against the Fakes, work off of that. Use any information you had to further undermine them. But then Geoff and Jack showed up and helped you, and started looking into expanding their operation, and the Corpirate changed the plan.” Ryan’s fingers started trailing along the top of the chair, small and nervous twitches, unlike any motion Gavin had seen from him yet. Nothing so far had ever seemed to even faze Ryan, none of their quick moves or horrible accidents, he’d been nothing but calm and collected, save for the times he got angry and snappy. This was new, and it made Ryan seem more human, more like a worried friend that needed comfort rather than just a sociopathic mass murderer.

The nervous vulnerability only lasted a moment before Ryan’s grip tightened on the chair, keeping his hands still. He took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself, but when he opened them again there was still a desperate, almost apologetic look to them. “I wasn’t really involved, up until then. I wasn’t needed. At least not until the Corpirate solidified his plan, when you all broke into his mansion. He decided to let you all in on the heists, so I made sure you found the files that you did. And I think I kept you from getting killed while you were hiding under the desk, Gavin.”

Gavin frowned in confusion before his eyes widened, the particulars of that night coming back to him. It had been so long ago at this point, so much had happened, he hadn’t really thought about having to hide under the desk in the Corpirate’s mansion, desperately wishing Michael would return. Scarface had come in, and then someone else. Someone whose voice was faintly muffled, in a way Gavin remembered Scarface’s hadn’t been. A deep voice that he hadn’t even thought about, hadn’t even  _ tried _ to connected to Ryan, but it seemed so obvious now.

“That was  _ you _ with Scarface?” Gavin blurted, and he could see Ryan raise an eyebrow behind the mask as he tilted his head.

“Scarface?” he asked blankly before his eyes lit up and he chuckled faintly. “I suppose that’s as good a name for him as any. Though I just knew him as Felix. Not gonna lie, kind of an asshole.”

“Yeah, great, you know, I’m really enjoying story time and this fucking walk down memory lane and all that, but seriously. After all the shit we did for you, you turn around and fucking betray us? Was this the only time, or were you behind more of the bullshit we’ve had to deal with?” Michael demanded.

Ryan glanced down and his grip tightened, knuckles turning white. He let out a breath and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to have all of that happen, I swear. It was outside of my control. But…” He again refused to meet their eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I was in contact with the Corpirate through everything. I told him about the apartment, I got the bugs and programs to tap into Gavin’s computer, I told him about the house, about Geoff’s contacts and where to find them, our heist plans, caught Felix setting up the bomb in the warehouse, got the penthouse from him… But all I did was pass off information!”

The silence that followed was charged, and Gavin looked over at Michael nervously. Michael’s lips were pressed together in a thin line, his eyes narrowed, hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that they were shaking. Gavin could practically  _ feel _ the anger radiating off of Michael, the sheer hatred and fiery rage that burned in his eyes, building to the point of eruption. The corner of Michael’s mouth slowly curled up in a snarl and he leaned forward as far as he could, his words leaving his throat in a terrifying growl that sent chills down Gavin’s spine. “That’s  _ all _ ? You think that fucking matters? That all of a sudden we’re going to forgive you, because you didn’t fucking  _ mean _ to?”

Ryan didn’t answer, didn’t move, his attention fixed solidly on the ground. But Michael wasn’t waiting for a response, pressing on with his voice growing louder with every word, growing from a low snarl to an angry roar. “Geoff and Jack lost their apartment because of you. You knew there was a bomb and didn’t  _ fucking tell us _ , and we almost died! You...you destroyed my house. My fucking house, you cunt! Ray and I were safe there, we were okay, the people there didn’t deserve any of the bullshit they had to face because of you! Maybe you didn’t pull the trigger, or you didn’t push the button on those explosives, but don’t you dare try and say you had nothing to do with this. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been such a backstabbing, lying, traitorous bastard!”

“I did what I could!” Ryan yelled back, his voice somehow louder, more powerful, cutting over the end of Michael’s words and ringing through the small room. His words silenced Michael, who still sat seething, but it was quiet glares once more. Ryan looked up at them, and his eyes were hard again, more like Gavin was used to. A mask behind a mask. “I tried. Telling the Corpirate no just isn’t an option. Not for me, not now. I know I hurt you, I know shit went wrong, but my hands are tied here! I did what I could, I tried to talk him down, I  _ did _ warn you about the bomb so you weren’t caught inside when it went off, but I can’t really do shit!”

Michael scoffed loudly, slowly leaning back so that his restraints weren’t pressing as hard into his skin anymore. “Yeah. You really went out of your way to help us. You really tried.” The sarcasm dripped from every word, harsh and scathing, and Ryan’s shoulders tensed. “I can tell you really put yourself on the fucking line there. Really doing  _ everything _ in your power to stop it. I’m glad you really stuck it to the Corpirate for us.”

Ryan pushed himself off of the back of the chair and started to move around it, lifting a finger as if he were about to speak, when there was a heavy metallic thunk from a large door off to the side. He froze mid-stride, and Gavin saw his eyes widen for a second before he shifted back where he was, giving Michael and Gavin harsh warning looks.

The door swung open and Gavin gulped as the Corpirate stepped inside, flanked by a couple of men who had guns clearly visible and close at hand. The Corpirate was as clean and composed as any time Gavin had ever seen him, dressed in a nice suit that was completely spotless and an eye patch covering one eye. He looked over at Michael and Gavin, smiling at them faintly, as he slowly walked into the room and glanced around.

“I thought there might have been a problem, considering the commotion and the cameras being turned off. Is there a problem here, James?” Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly at the name but the Corpirate didn’t seem to notice.

“Once again, it’s  _ Ryan _ ,” he said, and even though there was a little force to his words, Ryan sounded far calmer than he had a minute ago. “But no. There’s no problem.”

The Corpirate hummed, looking from Ryan to the lads and then slowly making his way around to the camera. He looked at it and then knelt down, picking up the cord and twirling it in his hand. “This seems like a bit of a problem to me.”

Ryan didn’t turn, didn’t move, except for his eyes which darted off to the side. “I have everything under control. This is what you have me for, isn’t it? I’m doing my job, and no one has had a problem with how I operate before.”

The cord was plugged back into the camera and the Corpirate stepped up to Ryan’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Then perhaps you should get some of them to protect you. But while you’re here, you do things my way - and my way involves letting me see what you’re getting up to all by yourself.”

“Of course,” Ryan said, and Gavin thought it sounded a little strained, some emotion kept barely contained and in check lurking behind the simple words. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You know…” The Corpirate’s hand tightened on Ryan’s shoulder for a second and Ryan finally moved, turning to face him. Gavin glanced over at Michael nervously, but Michael didn’t notice, attention fixed on what was happening in front of them. There was the occasional glance toward the door, where the two armed men stood, and he seemed to be working through something. “I’ve been thinking about something. Would you like to know what I’ve been thinking?”

“What’s that?” Ryan asked slowly.

The Corpirate took a step back, his hand dropping from Ryan’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking that I’m losing you. And whatever loyalty you profess. I’m not sure when, but you got caught up with the Fakes, and we just can’t have that.” He moved backward, toward the door, still looking at Ryan and smiling. The men at the door reached for their guns as the Corpirate continued, while Ryan shifted back a half-step warily.

“I attempted to stop it before, when Felix brought it to my attention, but you’re difficult to keep down, James. Then I figured I’d leave it for Edgar, he seems quite eager for a little revenge, but now… Well, I can’t have you ruining all of my plans now, can I?” The Corpirate stepped past the two men as they drew their guns and leveled them at Ryan. The motion made Ryan freeze, one hand halfway to his jacket pocket.

“What - You - I came to you for protection,” Ryan spat. The Corpirate shrugged. “I’ve worked with you for so long for it, and  _ now _ you’re backing out?”

“I was presented a better offer. It works out best for me if I don’t have you. Whether that means dead or you’re visiting an old friend, it doesn’t matter to me.” He glanced at one of the men and waved a hand toward Ryan. “Shoot him.” And then a gun went off.


	35. Jumping Ship

Ryan was already moving by the time the gun went off. He couldn’t get to his own weapon, not yet, not with the guns trained carefully on him, but he could at least try to get out of the way.

Just as the Corpirate finished his last word, Ryan dove to the side, aiming for some of the pipes that cut through the room. The gun went off, a loud crack in the small metal room, and Gavin squawked. A line of fire cut across Ryan’s shoulder, quickly diminished by the heavy impact of his other side slamming into the ground. He scrambled behind the pipes, pulling his legs out of sight, and grabbed for a gun of his own.

Ryan checked the ammo and safety in quick, practiced motions, hardly sparing the gun a glance, his attention focused on his surroundings. The Corpirate spoke, but Ryan wasn’t listening, he didn’t care what he had to say. The words only covered up the small, tell-tale sounds Ryan was waiting for, little noises that would warn him of danger, things that could be easily hidden underneath conversation and the quiet drone of his surroundings.

The light creaking that echoed through the pipes as the boat around them settled, Gavin’s quick and frightened breathing, Michael quietly muttering to himself, none of it mattered. Excess noise, distractions, things that Ryan didn’t need to worry about right now. It was the small sounds, underneath, that he was focused on. The shuffling of feet near the door out of the room, the scuff of a shoe on metal as someone moved forward, the slightly too loud and fast breathing of someone who feared what they would find around the corner. That was all Ryan cared about.

He could hear the movement of the two gunmen, hear their footfalls as they moved on either side of the pipes, intending to flank Ryan. Maybe if they weren’t wearing heavy boots to walk across metal, they could’ve actually had a chance of surprising him. As it were, Ryan was ready as soon as they showed their faces.

The one on his right was moving forward just a little quicker and Ryan had his gun trained upward, about the height of the man’s torso. Ryan still hadn’t stood, instead crouching on the balls of his feet for a quick escape and to present a smaller target. The gunman moved forward slowly, cautiously, and that was his main mistake. It gave Ryan more than enough warning, enough time to slightly readjust his aim for a better shot, as first a shoe, the barrel of a gun, arms, a leg, all appeared around the pipe.

As soon as Ryan had the shot, he took it.

The crack of the gun seemed much louder here, just in front of his face, with the pipes and metal walls catching and amplifying the sound, sending it reverberating throughout the room. Ryan barely saw the result of his gunshot, registered little else besides the cry of surprise and pain, before he was spinning on the balls of his feet to the other side. This man moved faster, likely fueled by the shot, but Ryan was already squeezing the trigger by the time he got turned around. A second gunshot, only doubling the noise, setting his ears to ringing, and the man went down.

Ryan reached out and grabbed the gun from the man’s fingers, shaking off his weak grasp as blood quickly left his body, leaving him weak and dying from a single hole in his upper chest. A third shot, behind Ryan, and his back seared with pain, fire traveling from the bullet wound and radiating out to everywhere else. He snarled, spinning back around, and lifted his gun. Another shot, the bullet catching the injured but determined shooter in the head, and the second man fell limp.

The echoes of the gunshots and the ringing in Ryan’s ears hung around for a moment as he clicked on the safety on his newly acquired gun, tucked it into a pocket, and picked up the third from the floor. He glanced around, slowly getting up, despite protests from his back and the bullet wound just under his ribs. After the few seconds of chaos, it was eerily quiet, and he glanced over at the lads.

Gavin stared at him, as wide-eyed as he was when they first met, though now it was more out of fear and concern than awe and adoration. He looked from Ryan to the two dead or dying gunmen, and even though he was gripping the arms of the chair, Ryan could tell his hands were shaking. “Are you okay?” Ryan asked, guilt and worry digging at his stomach.

“Y-yeah…” Gavin said, nodding as he glanced at Ryan’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

Ryan looked over where his jacket was torn and blood darkened the blue shoulder patch. It was just a graze, relatively minor, though he’d have to repair his jacket later, which was kind of a pain. “I’m fine,” Ryan said, putting away another of the guns and moving past them to grab his knife from the floor. Most of his weapons weren’t on him, and he wanted anything he could get.

He paused, looking over at the doorway. Empty, not that he’d expected anything else. And he doubted it would be for long. The little red light on the camera proved that the room was once again being watched, they’d know what happened, it’d be pretty clear that these two gunmen had failed. More were coming, Ryan would bet his life on it.

And in a way, he was.

Purposefully not looking at the lads - Ryan didn’t need to see the pain and fear in Gavin’s eyes, the hatred burning in Michael’s, things he really deserved to see but couldn’t bring himself to - Ryan clicked his knife closed and moved toward the door.

“You’re just gonna fucking  _ leave? _ ” Michael demanded, but Ryan ignored him. The guilt started building again in his stomach - or maybe that feeling was just coming from the bullet that was in his abdomen. It was hard to tell. Either way, Ryan didn’t answer, he couldn’t. How could he explain everything to them? How could he tell them what he’d been through, what he’d hoped to gain here, what had been happening, especially before someone else came around? There was no way.

“Ryan?” Gavin’s voice was still soft, unsure, almost pleading. That made Ryan pause, one foot in the narrow hallway. “Ryan, please.”

“Geoff will get you guys out of here,” Ryan promised, continuing out of the room.

Behind him, there was a small pause, and then Michael’s voice echoed through the surrounding metal. “You fucking  _ coward _ , get back here!” But Ryan couldn’t get back there. He couldn’t help, not now, not safely. Not when the room was being watched, when he was being watched, when  _ Jack _ … It wasn’t the right time.

Ryan’s mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts and various concerns as he carefully made his way through the halls of the ship, destination in mind but keeping a close eye out for anyone who might try to stop him.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised by any of this. Ryan should’ve known that the day would come when the Corpirate would toss him aside and deem him a problem to be disposed of. It wasn’t like this behavior was unheard of, not just with the Corpirate but with many in high places in the criminal world. No one was really invested in their underlings, none of them really cared what happened, and most would do just about anything to keep things going smoothly for themselves.

But they’d made a deal, dammit.

Ryan made it to a small storage room, slipping inside and searching for a first aid kit. His back burned with pain, hot and familiar with every movement, as warm blood coated his skin. First things first, he had to get the bullet wound bandaged up. Leaving wasn’t an option if he succumbed to blood loss, and in that location, it was impossible to simply not jostle the wound and hope the bleeding slowed on its own.

Fingers closing on a small box, Ryan set his gun aside and pulled out the kit, flipping it open and pulling out gauze. There wasn’t time for a full fix, he couldn’t attempt to do much more than stop the bleeding, not here. Not now. Gauze would have to do.

Ryan shrugged off his jacket and pulled up his shirt, wincing as the fresh injury flared with newfound pain following the movement. He quickly stuffed the hole with gauze, wrapping more around his abdomen and taping it in place with a few generous loops of medical tape. It was crude, and it wasn’t a long term solution, but it was functional.

While Ryan worked, the motions of his hands as practiced as they were handling a gun, he kept an eye on the door. He didn’t know how seriously the Corpirate was going to come after him, how much force he might expect, or where he’d even expect it to come from. Ryan had certainly considered this possibility in passing even if he hadn’t done so with extreme seriousness, it had become habit to plan for the worst, but most of his plans hadn’t revolved around being on this boat that was rarely used when things went to shit.

He also didn’t know why  _ now _ , after so long, the Corpirate was calling it quits. There had been years for this to happen, years in which Ryan was easily disposable. There had been no small price on his head when he’d come across the Corpirate and struck this deal, his promise to work in exchange for protection and anonymity. It would’ve made sense for him to be stabbed in the back and tossed to the wolves then, what changed?

Years ago, Ryan fucked up. A lot. He was sloppy, he got caught, he made mistakes. It was a new situation, a new way of living he was unaccustomed to, he was far from the best criminal that could be found. Away from Edgar, away from his crew, from his home, Ryan had been nothing. He didn’t even know what the Corpirate had seen in him then. There were problems, a lot of them, as Ryan started building the identity of the Vagabond, building this new life and his mask to hide behind. Why hadn’t he been considered a liability then?

This job, moving in on Geoff’s territory, was the biggest yet. He’d worked his way up to the Corpirate’s good graces, he’d done everything he could to keep on the man’s good side, and Ryan thought he was doing well. He thought he was successful, that it would maintain this deal that they’d held for so long. And this job  _ was  _ successful. They’d done what they’d set out to do, no one had caught on, it had worked according to plan, even if the plan had been edited over time. What went wrong?

The first aid kit snapped closed and Ryan fixed his shirt, pulling his jacket back on and grabbing his gun. He held it at the ready as he yanked the door open, prepared for gunfire, but it remained quiet. Ryan frowned suspiciously, moving back into the hall and looking around. There were cameras everywhere, he knew that much, it was impossible to move through one of the Corpirate’s places without surveillance. They knew where he was. And yet he didn’t hear a thing, and that put Ryan on edge.

More weapons would be good, he had a sizable collection remaining in his room, despite any weapons and supplies he’d lost during his time with the Fakes. Ryan had set up a stock at all of the Corpirate’s places that he ended up spending time at, just in case. But he didn’t want to chance it. If he wasn’t running into people in the halls, Ryan was sure it meant there was an ambush, and his room would be a great place for one. Small, enclosed, nowhere to hide. It was a death trap.

Leaving was the best option right now.

There was likely still a helicopter on the upper decks, but Ryan didn’t trust that. Not only did he not have the keys, but helicopters were slow to start up and take off, and presented a large target until they got significant height. It would be too easy for the chopper to be damaged, disabled, or destroyed before he could go anywhere. Which left the only other option for leaving this ship: the small boats.

At the back of the ship were jet skis and speed boats, a small fleet of them to get men on and off the ship as necessary. With this acting as the current base of operations, while negotiations with the Fakes were underway, there would likely be a sizable selection to choose from, not to mention his own if it hadn't been taken out of commission. Ryan just had to get there.

With a destination in mind, Ryan set off into the ship, listening closely for anyone approaching or any signs of an ambush, and all the while struggling to piece together what went wrong.

The Corpirate seemed to think that Ryan had grown too attached to the Fakes, his loyalty was wavering, and perhaps Ryan had grown rather fond of this group after the time he’d spent around them, but he didn’t know where this idea had come from. Sure, Ryan was impressed with Geoff and what he was able to accomplish with such a small team at his disposal. He was honestly grateful toward Jack and the care and concern he had shown for everyone, Ryan included. He enjoyed talks with Gavin, as ridiculous as they may be, Ray had a sense of humor that seemed to be derived from teenagers on the internet but it certainly wasn’t bad to be around. Michael was practically loyal to a fault, yet Ryan could only respect his fierce protectiveness, while Jeremy was still a little unsure of his place but was interesting to be around regardless.

So Ryan had grown to appreciate the crew and what they had accomplished and how they stuck together through all of this. It hadn’t stopped him from doing his job.

Though at this point, it didn’t seem to matter what Ryan thought of the situation, whether he thought he was doing what he was supposed to or not. The Corpirate had made up his mind, and as frustrating and worrying as the situation was, there wasn’t much Ryan could do but plow through it and go on to a new plan of action.

The continued silence on the ship wore on Ryan’s nerves as he made his way to the fleet of boats. He stepped carefully and quietly through the narrow halls, gun at the ready, watching and listening for anything out of place. Nothing moved as he progressed, there wasn’t any sign of others even aboard the ship. There weren’t a lot of men stationed here at the moment when compared to the Corpirate's full force, they were scattered over a handful of locations that pertained to this job, but there weren’t that few either.

Eventually, only a single door separated Ryan from his escape, one slab of metal between him and the docking platform. He paused outside of it, mapping the room out in his mind, mentally marking locations of interest, possible points of cover and where he needed to be. If the intention was to gun him down here, Ryan wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

Stepping to one side of the door, Ryan held his gun ready with one hand and reached out with the other, pressing it against the door. It shifted slightly at his touch, not latched, already a sign that something was off. Without any further hesitation, Ryan shoved the door open and moved quickly back to his point of cover next to the doorframe, as gunshots rang out from the room beyond.

He grinned beneath his mask as the gunfire echoed through the walls of the ship, sharp bursts of sound that quickly died away when the shooters realized their trap hadn’t been properly sprung. It was rather amateur of them, Ryan thought, grabbing one of his spare pistols and thumbing the safety off. Anyone could see that ambush coming from a mile off, and even a child could avoid it. It was sloppy, but at least it meant he was up against a bunch of idiots.

Idiots were easy to combat.

It was impossible to tell how many men he was up against, not with only their gunshots to go by, and Ryan took a breath and crouched down, making himself smaller and putting his head at a different height than expected. He peeked around the doorframe, and though a gunshot made him duck back out of sight only a second later, the glance was all he needed.

The docking platform was an open section of the ship, three walls and then nothing but open air. The smaller boats were pulled along at the very back of the ship, easily accessed through this bay, and the small room itself held a few crates of supplies, tools, and rows of cabinets and lockers. There was little by way of real cover, and most of what they had was cobbled together.

Ryan had counted five men waiting for him. One was very close to the door, likely visible even from Ryan’s current position if he moved just a little closer. There was nothing more than a rolling tool chest between himself and the door. Two men had taken up positions behind a hastily built wall of supply crates, which certainly wasn’t one of the smartest moves, but Ryan wasn’t sure what else he had expected. One man had been crouched practically out in the open, nearest the boats, and the last was in the most secure position hunkered down behind one of the metal work tables that was bolted to the wall.

It only took Ryan a moment to devise a plan and he nodded to himself, preparing for what was probably a foolish endeavor but he had to try it. Holding both guns at the ready, Ryan rolled forward into the doorway and fired.

The man out in the open went down immediately, his lack of cover making it simple for Ryan to hit him. The second bullet went to one of the men behind the barricade, and though Ryan wasn’t positive that the shot had killed him, he at least dipped out of sight. There was responding gunfire, but Ryan was already moving, not allowing himself to sit still for even a second longer than necessary.

He charged forward, ramming into the wheeled tool box with one shoulder and slamming the heavy metal container into the man behind it. There was a shout, and Ryan nearly fell over as he met sudden resistance. He quickly caught himself as a bullet pierced the tool chest next to his head and he fired a quick shot toward the man behind the table. It didn’t hit, but it forced the man into cover for a moment.

Another shot went toward the barricade again, though Ryan was aiming more specifically for the boxes themselves. Two shots and gasoline started to leak from one of the lower containers, a flimsy crate that held a large tub of spare fuel for the small boats. Ryan grinned and fired at the growing puddle, but just as he did the tool box crashed into his side and sent him falling away, and his shot went wide. The two men behind the barricade were maintaining cover, but the one behind the table had come up to start shooting again, and the man with the tool box wasn’t content with just knocking Ryan over.

There was a grunt of effort, and the box toppled over toward Ryan, the drawers falling open and slamming into him, tools showering his back and shoulder even as he rolled out from underneath it. A bullet slammed into the ground beside him and Ryan scrambled up, shooting twice.

His first bullet found its mark in the man behind the table, far more exposed now that Ryan was near the center of the room. The other sparked against the metal ground, the sparks catching in the spilled gasoline and fire erupting quickly across the puddle. It spread around the crates, following a line through the bay, and there were a couple surprised and frenzied shouts from the Corpirate’s men.

Two more gunshots downed the last two men. The one behind the tool box dropped with a single shot, while the other caught the final man behind the barricade in the knee as he tried to get away from the flames, downing but not killing him. As Ryan stood, the man leveled his gun and fired in desperation. Pain flashed across Ryan’s neck, a graze that set it to bleeding but managed to miss any major arteries, and the pain faded into numbness as Ryan forced it away. It was a distraction right now, the aches and pains weren’t worth listening to, not until he could do something about them.

Ryan pointed his gun and fired, and the man crumpled, the hole in his head oozing blood. Silence consumed the docking platform, save for the crackling of the fire behind him. Ryan glanced around at it, a little worried about starting a fire on a ship in a place where more fuel was stored, especially when Gavin and Michael were onboard, but he figured it’d be fine. They could deal with it, there were still men on board, and the Corpirate wouldn’t let the lads roast yet.

Shouting and footsteps could be heard in the hallway Ryan had come down, as well as on the upper floor, coming from the deck. Ryan moved quickly, shoving one of his guns in a pocket and giving the fire a wide berth on his way to the key cabinet. It was locked, but that wasn’t much of an issue - though Ryan had put away most of his arsenal, his lockpicks had never left his person. He never knew when they might be necessary.

In a matter of seconds, the cabinet was open, as his back started to grow uncomfortably hot from the raging fire, and perhaps from sustained injuries. Glancing quickly at the rows of keys that hung from little pegs, Ryan snatched up a small fob and bolted for the open sea, and the small fleet waiting for him. It wasn’t too hard for him to find his own jet ski, a black and red one that would blend in well with the deepening night, and he was rather glad he’d insisted on bringing it instead of getting a ride.

Ryan hopped on, starting the engine, as flashlights appeared on the deck above him. The rope holding his jet ski in place was cut with a quick slash of his knife, pulled from his jacket and flipped open with ease, and then he was gone. Gunfire started up behind him, bullets hitting the water and creating small fountains of water.

There was the low whistle of something larger and Ryan jerked the jet ski to the side, moving it out of the way as a rocket slammed into the water, creating a wave but no large explosion as the water ate up the fire. A moment later, the pursuing shots fell away, as Ryan shot off into the water and away from the ship. He was home free and determined to get to help. As foolish as it may be.


End file.
